


The First Year

by Dot_adsty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn, post-DH, post-deathlyhallows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 65,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26368411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dot_adsty/pseuds/Dot_adsty
Summary: It's hard to pick up the pieces when you, yourself, are still broken. Follows the Golden Trio (mainly Hermione and Ron) as they navigate the highs and the lows of their first year after the war.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 246
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

Exhaustion was overtaking Hermione, to the point that she could barely focus. Up until this moment, her emotions had been on a Ferris wheel; fear, jubilation, terror, relief, repeating themselves in no particular order. Now, she simply felt numb. 

She was sitting at what was the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall. How she got here, she couldn’t remember. Her mind was otherwise occupied. The events that only recently took place played in her mind like a movie; Harry dying, Harry not dying, Harry winning, the dead bodies that scattered the ground that they now sat on, Ron. 

She couldn’t help but think about Ron. What had caused her to kiss him in the first place… She could blame it on adrenaline or the fear of their impending deaths, but those weren’t the real reasons she did it. But, they would be her cover if he regretted their actions. He had kissed her back, hadn’t he? It didn’t matter now anyway; Fred was dead, they were in mourning. She chastised herself for even thinking about their possible romance. Now was not the time. 

Ron was sitting across from her at the table. His eyelids were weighing heavily on his face, he too, looked exhausted. Ginny was sat next to Hermione; her tears had dried, with a blank expression now formed on her face. Harry had long disappeared under his invisibility cloak, Hermione would have followed him, but she knew he needed his space. 

“The Gryffindor common room wasn’t damaged,” Neville said, coming up to the table they were sitting at, “it's open for anyone who needs a place to sleep.”

Hermione hardly registered what was said. Sleep, sleep would be incredible. Nevertheless, she couldn’t leave Ron and Ginny. 

“You should go,” Ginny said to Hermione and Ron. “You both look knackered.”

“What about you?” Hermione asked, placing a reassuring hand on the other girl’s shoulder. 

“I’m going to go with Mum back to Aunt Muriel’s. We can figure out the rest when we’ve had some decent sleep.”

Hermione nodded and hugged Ginny before the pair stood to go on their own way. 

Ron stood as well, and soon the two of them were making their way to the Gryffindor Tower. However, before they could exit the great hall, Neville stopped them. He discretely leaned towards them and whispered  _ Harry’s there.  _ They thanked Neville for his help and continued on. 

The trek to the tower was more treacherous than typical. The castle had sustained considerable damage, to the point that Hermione wondered if it was safe to try to cross it. There were fallen pillars to climb over, broken glass to avoid, and blood splatter to overlook. By the time they made it to the open portrait at the head of the tower, Hermione was wide awake; her body jittering from their mini-adventure. 

The common room was bustling; there were groups of people chatting, and people sprawled asleep on the furniture. Hermione expected someone to stop her and Ron and question them about their past year. But instead, she was met with approving glances and grateful nods, the others seeming to know that Ron and Hermione needed their space. 

They made their way up to the boy’s old dormitory, pausing at the door. 

“Harry would probably appreciate some clean clothes,” Ron said, motioning towards Hermione’s beaded bag hanging around her neck. 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Hermione agreed, and Ron pushed the door open.

Harry’s curtains were drawn, so Hermione laid out clean clothes on his dresser. She handed Ron the bag, and he took out what he needed. 

Hermione knew it was time to leave, but she couldn’t get her feet to move. She couldn’t imagine sleeping alone, especially after spending the past year with Harry and Ron. It was silly, really, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to sleep without the lull of Ron’s snores. 

“You could stay,” Ron said, barely above a whisper. “I mean- erm- I doubt everyone will sleep here; there will be extra beds.” 

Hermione couldn’t help but smile, though she tried to hide it. 

“That would be nice,” she said, getting her bag from Ron. “I’m not sure I could sleep now, though. I’m exhausted, but I’m wide awake.”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “I could do with a shower,” he said while dramatically pretending to smell himself. 

Hermione agreed, and they headed into the boy’s bathroom. She was thankful for two things. Firstly, it was empty. Secondly, it was just like the girls’- with private shower stalls. 

There were towels neatly folded at the entrance of each shower, and Hermione wondered when the house-elves had had time to put them there. They both grabbed one and headed into their individual stalls.

The water felt magical on Hermione’s skin. She immediately walked into the water, and it rushed down her face and body, the warmth bringing comfort and cleansing her. It was only when she turned her back towards the shower did that change. She couldn’t help but let out a hiss in pain as the water stung her back. And, for the first time, she realised she had a gash on her back. 

“Everything okay?” Ron asked from his stall, sounding concerned. 

“Yes,” she said, trying to reassure him. “I just have a cut; dittany will fix it.”

Ron gave an understanding grunt, as Hermione reached into her bag and got out her dittany. Much to her displeasure, she could only reach part of her wound. She tried to continue to shower without healing it, but it was just too painful. 

“Erm, Ron,” she said quietly, hoping that he wouldn’t hear her. 

“Yeah?” he asked. 

“I can’t quite reach my cut, do you think you could put dittany on it?” she asked tentatively. 

“Yes,” he said, immediately turning off his shower. 

She hadn’t expected him to be so quick to help. She thought he’d at least finish showering. Now, she needed to figure out what she was going to do. 

She couldn’t wear a top, but she thought she should at least put on bottoms. She went to get her clothes when she heard him at the entrance of her shower. She didn’t have time. Reluctantly, she left her shower in only her towel. He had seen her in just a towel before, on nights in the tent when she had forgotten to bring a change of clothes with her into the loo. But, this felt different. 

He was fully dressed, and she felt remarkably vulnerable. 

She handed him the dittany in silence, and he motioned for her to sit on a bench in the middle of the bathroom. She pushed her hair over her shoulder, sat down with her back towards him, and waited. 

He let out a sympathetic groan when he saw her back. It was worse than Hermione had previously thought. 

Her skin tingled as she waited for him to begin, but he hadn’t. He was trying to figure out how best to apply it. He put his hand on her shoulder to steady himself. Hermione could feel his breath on her neck and couldn’t help the goose pimples that rushed down her back. 

He finally began, her skin stinging as the ointment was applied. He apologised softly, his breath on her ear, distracting her. After a few moments, he stopped. 

“Erm, Hermione,” he said, sounding unsure. 

“Yes?” she asked, barely above a whisper. 

“Your towel- I can’t get to the rest of it.”

“Oh.”

She stood up, still facing away from Ron and carefully loosened her towel so that it was hanging limply at her back. 

Instead of sitting back down, Ron walked to her, finishing his job. 

“Thank you,” she said, turning back to him, taking the dittany back—neither of them making eye contact. 

They both went back to their showers and finished up in silence. When Hermione had dressed and exited her stall, Ron was still in his. 

She went to the mirror to inspect herself. It was a mistake; she looked horrible. Her face was gaunt and pale, small scars lining her from head to toe. Her eyes were sunken in, and she looked older than years. Her hair was still wet, but she could tell it was a mess. She had already brushed it and knew that the burns she had sustained had burnt her hair as well. It was all different lengths, and Hermione couldn’t stand to look at it. 

So, she grabbed a pair of scissors out of her bag and went to work. When she was done, she was quite pleased with herself. Her face was still sickly looking, but at least her hair was all one length. She managed to keep it shoulder length, but after she magically dried it, her curls made it shorter. As she was scourgifying the cut hair away, Ron exited his stall. 

He walked over to her and froze. 

“What did you do?” he asked incredulously. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, annoyed by his tone. 

“Your hair,” he said. 

“It was a mess; it was all different lengths,” she said, feeling her anger rising. “I like how it looks.”

“I’ve never seen it so short,” he said. “It’s nice,” he added shyly. 

“Oh,” Hermione said, her anger diminishing. “Thank you.” 

The pair brushed their teeth and headed back into the boy’s dormitory. To both of their surprise, all of the beds, except for Rons, had the curtains drawn. The stood for a moment at the door of the bathroom, contemplating what to do.

“You can take my bed,” Ron offered. 

“Nonsense, I can go back to the girl’s dorm,” she said, though, again, her feet failed her. 

“I’d say we could share,” he said so quietly Hermione almost had to read his lips. “But I’m not sure we’d both fit.”

“I could enlarge it,” Hermione said a little too eagerly. 

“What?” asked Ron, apparently not following. 

“The bed,” she said, “so we could both fit.”

“Yeah,” said Ron as he headed to his old bed. 

Hermione hesitantly followed. When she made it to his bed, she first performed a silencing spell, so that they grunting of the furniture wouldn’t wake the other inhabitants in the room. Then she enlarged the bed as much as she could. It wasn’t much, as other beds were nearby, but it was enough so that they would be comfortable. 

She hesitantly entered his bed, her silk pyjamas sliding easily under the covers. She didn’t often wear these pyjamas; she considered them a luxury. She decided to treat herself tonight. If winning a war wasn’t an appropriate time to treat yourself, then when was?

Ron quickly joined Hermione, magicking the curtains closed as he did. They laid side-by-side, the bed barely big enough for the two of them to lay flat, their shoulders touching. It was pitch dark, and Hermione was suddenly very aware of her heartbeat; it seemed to be beating at an insurmountable pace. How was she going to sleep?

She felt Ron's hand moving next to hers, and before she could comprehend what he was doing, he had taken her hand in his. She felt her breath hitch, though she didn’t feel panic. Instead, at that moment, all she wanted to do was to melt into his arms. 

She turned her head towards his and could see that he was looking at her. She turned to face him, and he did the same, their hands still clasped with one another. 

Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could see a small smile on his face. She couldn’t help but smile back. He reached his free hand to her face, pushing the now-short locks out of her face. Her body shivered at the touch. They were face to face, an advantage of lying down. 

It was not much later that Ron leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. It was a much more gentle and soft kiss than the previous one they had. It was not hurried and full of panic and uncertainty; instead, it was calm and promising. She wished it wouldn’t end. 

He broke away slowly, and Hermione took his hand on her face in hers. They could do so much more. After all, they were (somewhat) alone and in a bed. But now wasn’t the time. Instead, she did what she wanted to do earlier and folded her body into his, the pair of them falling asleep in each other's arms. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione's eyes fluttered open, her body resting comfortably on the bed, but her head was on something less comfortable, something hard. Ron’s chest. She didn’t dare move in case she woke him. Before she could stop them, the memories of the night before flooded back to her. She tried to close her eyes, to push all of the terrible memories down, but it was no use. Even the safeness of Ron’s arms couldn’t keep the terror down. 

She would have to move eventually; there were things that needed to be done. So, she carefully peeled herself from Ron and lifted her head slowly off of his chest. She pushed herself to a sitting position, trying desperately not to wake him. However, when she glanced over at him, she could see that he was wide awake, his eyes staring at her. She wondered how long he had been awake. 

“Morning,” he said, breaking their eye contact. 

“Morning,” she replied. It felt strange not to have a “good” at the beginning, but, at this moment, it didn’t feel appropriate to include it. 

“How are you doing?” he asked while sitting up. 

She took inventory of herself. Her entire body ached- a feeling that had lingered since their time at Malfoy Manor. However, the last two days had invigorated her pain. It was as if she could feel every muscle in her body, and each muscle screamed in protest. 

“I’m alright,” she lied. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he likely also lied. “Do you smell that?”

Her senses had been so focused on how being next to Ron felt, that she hadn’t noticed the smell, until he mentioned it. The faint smell of fresh bread and cooked meat permeated her senses. She nodded her head, and he opened the curtains to investigate. 

There was a table sat in the middle of the room, with an assortment of foods; pastries, tea sandwiches, bacon, and eggs. Harry and Neville sat next to it, thoroughly enjoying the spread. 

Both of the men gave Ron a look, probably having to do with his and Hermione’s sleeping arrangements, but he ignored them. Hermione decided to pretend she did not also see these secret looks and instead raised her eyebrow to Harry, nonverbally asking about the food. 

“Don’t know, it was here when I woke up,” Harry said, “I think the house-elves brought it.”

“Brilliant,” Ron said as he went for the food. “Well have to go thank them,” he added, after glancing at Hermione. 

They joined the men on the floor and began eating in silence. There seemed to be an unspoken rule between Neville and the trio, as he did not ask them any questions about the past year and they did the same with him. 

They took their time eating, knowing that they would soon have to leave the comforts of the quiet dormitory and face reality. Neville finished before them and excused himself. As far as Hermione could tell, they were alone. 

“We need to talk about our story,” she said in hushed tones, just in case. 

“Whaddoyoumean?” Ron asked, not entirely done chewing the food in his mouth. 

“Well, as nice as it would be to tell everyone the truth of what we were doing, it could cause…trouble,” she said, trying to think of the best word to describe their predicament. 

The men stared at her, urging her to go on. 

“The things we were looking for,” she said, still trying to be cautious, “well if that got out, there could be copycats. Ones who would decide to put their soul in a grain of sand or a strand of hair or something just as inconspicuous. It wouldn’t be good.”

Ron shook his head in agreement. 

“But, we can’t just lie to the people we care about,” Harry said firmly. 

“I agree,” said Hermione. 

“We should have a story for our friends and family and one for the public,” suggested Ron. 

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking,” Hermione said. “An official story for the public and then the truth for those we trust, like Ron’s family.” At the last part of her sentence, Hermione could see Harry’s shoulders relax. 

“What should our story be?” asked Ron. 

“That, I don’t know,” replied Hermione, “I was hoping we could have someone help us with it, someone who knows a lot about dark magic and could come up with a better alternative.”

“Maybe Kingsley,” suggested Harry, “since he is an Auror, and we know we can trust him?” 

Hermione nodded her head. “Yes, though we should probably wait to ask him, let everything settle down a bit.” The men agreed, and she continued on. “So, for now, I think we should avoid talking about it. Unless we know, it’s truly safe.” They agreed on the plan, slowly getting up to get dressed and ready to face the world. 

The door to the dormitory felt like a radiating presence, silently screaming at them, warning of all that waited on the other side. Hermione was almost surprised when Harry was able to open it, half expecting it to burn him. He tentatively walked out, with Ron and Hermione following him. 

As they made their way down the seemingly never-ending stairs, Ron took Hermione’s hand. She immediately felt a sense of calmness overwhelm her. She looked up at him and gave a small smile, wondering if he took her hand because she needed it, or because he did. 

Thankfully, the common room was not nearly as full as the night before. Ginny, Neville, and Luna were sitting on the sofa, nearest the fire, and others were scattered around. Everyone looked up at them when they entered. 

Hermione considered for a moment how it would look; her and Ron exiting the boy’s dormitory holding hands. Beyond that, they had shared a bed the night before, with the curtains drawn and a silencing spell cast. She shook her head, trying to push these thoughts out of her mind. There were much more important things to worry about. 

They greeted their friends, both Ron and Hermione hugging Ginny. Harry did not hug Ginny but instead opted for a non-sexual handshake. They had yet to reconcile. Though, by the looks of them awkwardly greeting each other, Hermione assumed it would happen soon. 

The other trio went over the goings-on from the morning, careful to avoid talk of Fred or any of those who had passed the night before. Hermione was desperate to learn about those who had perished, trying to recall who she had seen alive the night before. But, she was afraid to ask. Afraid that there was another Fred to learn about. 

“The family’s meeting at three at Aunt Muriel’s,” Ginny said, checking her watch. “Then we’ll figure out where everyone is going to sleep. Dad wants the burrow to be checked out before we go back.” She stood up to go, and Ron did the same. 

Hermione wasn’t sure if she was included in the plan. After all, she wasn’t family. The realisation hit her suddenly; she had nowhere to go. No house to live in. She hadn’t planned that far in advance. If the burrow needed to be checked, her family’s home likely did as well. She wasn’t sure she even had enough saved to stay at a hotel, in the meantime. 

She looked over to Harry, who was also still seated, looking as worried and confused as herself. 

“Aren’t you two coming?” Ginny asked impatiently. “It’s ten ‘till.”

She looked at Harry, who was standing to leave. Then she looked at Ron, who offered her his hand and stood up, feeling incredibly grateful for her friends who considered her family. 

* * *

Dinner at Aunt Muriels had been a solemn affair. Both Molly and George were notably absent, spending their time in their temporary bedrooms. No one spoke much. Even Aunt Muriel was silent, an unusual change from her typical non stop complaining. 

Hermione returned the tent to Bill, who was planning on having Charlie and a couple of friends who had fought stay at his. Charlie was planning on staying in a room with George, but George currently wasn’t letting anyone in his room. 

Percy was to go back to his flat, which left three bedrooms for the rest of them. The rooms were much smaller than the burrows; only Ginny could fit in hers. Which left Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the sitting room. 

Before she left, Fleur took Hermione aside, to check on her. She was the main one to take care of and heal Hermione after Malfoy Manor. She did her best job, but there was no accounting for the possible side-effects of that many cruciatous curses in a row. Hermione thanked Fleur for her concern and said she was fine, though Fleur didn’t seem to believe her. 

After everyone had settled, the trio was left again, this time in Aunt Muriel’s horribly designed sitting room. Arthur had enlarged some pillows and made adequate beds for the men. Hermione offered to take one of the makeshift beds, but they insisted she take the couch. Ron added that she was the only one short enough to fit comfortably. 

The sofa smelled slightly of mothballs and cats. Hermione wondered if it was Crookshanks that caused the cat smell. Hermione had been sure she was out of tears by the time they arrived at Muriel’s, but when she saw that Crookshanks was there, safe and well taken care of, she couldn’t help but burst into tears. Of all those to survive the war, she expected her cat to be on the very bottom of the list. She was sure when she had left the burrow so hurriedly the year before that that would be the last time she would see her furry friend. She hugged everyone ( including a very displeased Muriel) in thanks, and Crookshanks hadn’t left her side since. In fact, he was currently resting at Hermione’s feet. 

Hermione didn’t anticipate being tired, having only been awake for hours, but as soon as she laid down, she could have fallen asleep at that moment. Her body wasn’t as jittery as the night before, and she thought she might be able to have some restful sleep, despite it all. 

She turned over on her side so that she could see her friends. Arthur had placed the beds on the floor, spread out enough so that the men were far from her. There would be no hand-holding for Ron and her. However, Ron had turned this bed slightly, so that he had a better view of Hermione. 

They made eye contact in the darkness, small reassuring smiles between the two barely visible before they fell into a restless sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

After a too-short sleep, the trio was woken by the others in the house. Bill and Fleur had returned and discussion of checking the burrow for curses was in full swing. The older Weasleys, minus Molly and George, decided that they were going to go after breakfast. They could wait for a task force to be set up, but they didn’t want to- Molly was desperate to have her family (or what was left of it) together again. Kingsley had popped by earlier and offered to help, though since he was now Minister of Magic, Arthur waved him off- there were much more important things for him to do. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny volunteered to go as well but were quickly shut down. No matter what they had accomplished in their short lives, in the eyes of the Weasley’s, they were still children. 

Without anything else to do, and feeling quite unhelpful, Hermione decided to assist Fleur with breakfast (which was much easier to do with actual ingredients available). Typically, this would be something that Molly would do, but she hadn’t left her room since the day before. 

After breakfast, the others went off, and the rest were left to wait and worry. There wasn’t much to do in Aunt Muriel’s house, and they spent the majority of their time sitting around. Conversations were quickly dissolved before they turned to difficult topics, and staring into space was beginning to become dull. Harry and Ron decided to root around the aged, decrepit house, while the young women went through Hermione’s bag for interesting reading material. Most of what was packed was about dark magic and Horcruxes, but eventually they found some of Hermione’s favourites, ones she couldn’t travel without. As soon as they had found their new entertainment, Ron and Harry came tumbling back into the sitting room. Ron had found an old wizards chessboard and eagerly set it up. Ginny quickly gave up trying to read Les Miserables, and instead watched the young men play. Hermione also struggled to read, finding it difficult to focus on the words, her mind too preoccupied with all that had happened in the past week.

Before the men could finish their game, the others returned, tired and in need of food. Over sandwiches, they explained that the house had been ransacked and cursed. However, with Bill's experience breaking curses, they were able to rid the burrow of immediate danger. Now, all that was left was a thorough cleaning, which of course the “children” could take part in. They finished their lunch and made their way to the burrow, only Molly and George staying behind. 

Before, the burrow looked like it was going to fall apart. Now, it looked dangerous, like it would crumble with just one touch. The death eaters did their best to destroy the Weasley’s family home. Windows were blown out, bits of the wall looked burned, and “blood traitors” was scrawled across the front. 

Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand at the sight. His expression was hard to read, but his hands had trembled. As soon as she made contact his trembling was eased slightly. Together, they walked into the burrow. When she saw the destruction, Hermione couldn’t help but gasp. The exterior was only a prelude to what the inside held. Pictures were torn off of walls, furniture viciously destroyed, and walls charred. The burrow was no longer recognisable- it no had the homely burrow feeling. They were quickly put to work; there was a lot of work to do. 

* * *

After hours of cleaning and repairing the ground floor, the group was split to work on the bedrooms. Hermione was sent with Ginny and Harry with Ron. Hermione struggled to focus on the task at hand, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Ron. She was worried about him. He seemed entirely too stoic, in fact, she hadn’t seen him cry since the battle. While she was no expert in grieving, it didn’t seem right. So, when she saw Harry pass Ginny’s room to head to the loo, she took her chance. She excused herself to Ginny, who didn’t appear to believe her excuse of needing some air. 

At first, Hermione thought Ron was not in his room; during a preliminary scan of his room, she did not see or hear anyone. Then she looked down. Ron was crouched into himself, his back shaking with sobs. 

Hermione couldn’t help but rush towards him. She didn’t know if he wanted her comfort, she didn’t know what he wanted at all. She had cried many times in front of him, but aside from the battle, he had never cried in front of her. 

As soon as she kneeled next to him, she knew she made the right choice, as he fell into her, his sobbing face now in her lap. When he moved, Hermione could see something in his hand, a picture of him with Fred and George. She began stroking his hair, not sure what to say.  _ It’s okay _ wasn’t accurate,  _ it’s going to be okay _ felt like a lie. So, instead, she said nothing. She couldn’t help the tears that fell from her eyes onto his hair. 

The door opened once again, this time it was Harry. He looked confused at first, but soon realised what he was seeing. He stood awkwardly in the door frame, not knowing what to do. This was new territory for all of them. 

Hermione motioned her head for Harry to sit on the other side of a still-sobbing Ron. Harry didn’t jump at the invitation but hesitantly walked closer to the couple like a lion tamer greeting his new pet. As neither of them attacked him, he sat down, hesitantly placing a hand on Ron’s back. 

They sat like that for what felt like hours, Ron eventually running out of tears. Hermione magicked a box of tissues over, and he loudly blew his nose, avoiding looking at his friends. No one knew what to say but were luckily interrupted by Ginny calling them to dinner. 

* * *

Hermione couldn’t sleep. As much as she tried; she couldn’t quiet her restless mind. After much tossing and turning, she decided she had to do something. She sat up in bed, not sure of what to do. Maybe a walk would calm her mind? Or a change in scenery? Or the familiar sound of a particular person's snoring? No, that wouldn’t be appropriate. She can’t just sneak into Ron’s room on the pretence of needing sleep. Or could she? 

She decided that sitting here, doing nothing, wasn’t going to help, so she got up to leave. 

“Can’t sleep?”, Ginny asked, making Hermione jump. 

“No”, Hermione said, feeling a bit like a child caught sneaking into the cookie jar. 

“Me neither”, said Ginny, as she flicked the lights on and sat up. She patted her bed to signal for Hermione to sit next to her, and Hermione complied.

“I don’t know how you’re cold,” Ginny said, motioning to Hermione’s long sleeves. “Mums got the house magicked so warm.”

Hermione shrugged, involuntarily moving her hand to her forearm. As far as she knew, her torture wasn’t common knowledge, or at least details of it weren’t. She wanted to keep it that way. 

Hermione thought of things to say, to change the subject, but her mind failed her. She didn’t want to ask Ginny why she wasn’t sleeping- that seemed fairly obvious. She could ask her about her last year, but that would likely drift towards Hermione’s last year, which may drift to her torture…

_ It shouldn’t be this difficult to talk to her friend _ , Hermione internally chastised herself. It’s not like they hadn’t spent many moments, like tonight, staying up and chatting. Chatting about nothing important at all. But now, everything seemed important and hard, too hard to talk about. 

Ginny appeared to be having the same trouble, and the pair continued in silence until Ginny curled into Hermione's arms. Hermione squeezed Ginny’s side, expecting her to cry as Ron had, but no tears came out. 

“How was your year?”, Ginny asked quietly. 

She hadn’t asked Hermione what happened over the year, or for any details, so Hermione decided to respond with a simple “rough”.

“How was yours?”, Hermione asked back. 

“Shite,” responded Ginny succinctly, causing Hermione to laugh at the morbid truth of it. They continued in the quiet, both preoccupied with the memories of their last year. 

“So you and my brother?”, Ginny asked, nudging Hermione in the side. Hermione shrugged again, not knowing how to respond. “You are dating, right?”, Ginny asked incredulously. 

“I- I don’t know,” Hermione said truthfully.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”, Ginny asked as if Hermione had said the most ridiculous thing. 

“Well, we haven’t really discussed it, and it’s not like we’ve gone on dates.”

“Yeah, but surely you’ve been together for long enough that you can figure it out,” Ginny said, sounding annoyed. 

“I’m not sure, our first kiss was the day of the battle.” 

“What?”, Ginny asked in shock, pushing herself out of Hermione’s arms so she could make direct eye contact with her. “You mean to tell me, that this entire year- that you’ve spent alone, in a small tent, with nothing to do, except whatever it is you were doing and haven’t told us, that with all of that, you  _ still _ didn’t get together?”

“We weren’t really alone,” rebuffed Hermione. 

“More alone than you’ll be here,” said Ginny. “So you didn’t kiss until the battle?”

Hermione nodded. 

“Well, if the bet was still going, I’d be out quite a few galleons.”

“What?” It was Hermione’s turn to be outraged. 

“Fred and Geor-,” Ginny started, but stopped, taking a long breath to centre herself. “There was a bet going on of when the two of you would shack up. I thought for sure it would be sooner.”

“A bet? On us? How many people were involved?”, Hermione asked in indignation. 

“Loads, most of the Gryffindors.”

“Oh!”, Hermione huffed, her breath growing quicker at the thought of it. 

“It sounds like we’re in need of a conversation with two particular boys,” Ginny said while standing up. 

“Yes, but not right now!”, said Hermione quickly. 

“Why not?”

“Well, firstly it’s two in the morning,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

“If we can’t sleep, what makes you think they can? Here,” Ginny said, going through her dresser, “I have one of the prototypes from the twins.” She pulled out what looked like a pair of binoculars. “These can see through walls, so we can make sure they are awake before we go in.”

Hermione shook her head, “Those don’t seem like the best invention,” she said. “If they got into the wrong hands…”

“Like I said, they’re a prototype, they decided against making them for just that reason. Now, are you coming?”

Hermione reluctantly followed Ginny out of her room and up to the attic bedroom. Ginny pressed her binoculars up to the door and then gave Hermione a  _ told you so  _ look. Hermione could see the light from their room on from under the door. Ginny quickly knocked and entered before announcing herself. 

Hermione carefully peeked her head through the doorframe to see both of the men looking perplexed. 

“We need to talk,” Ginny said to Harry.

“I-,” Harry started, sounding confused, but before he could finish, Ginny was already out of the room. He stood and followed anxiously. Which left Hermione and Ron, in his room- alone. 

“What was that about?”, Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Ron said, confirming what Hermione already knew.

She stood hesitantly by the doorframe. She thought of going back to Ginny’s room- to retreat, but realised that Ginny and Harry were probably in there. It didn’t seem like a smart idea to disturb them. 

“You can come in,” Ron offered, evidently thinking along the same lines as Hermione. 

Hermione took a step forward, but then stopped.  _ Where was she to go?  _ She could sit on Harry’s bed, though it didn’t feel right to sit in his unmade bed. She could continue to stand here, like a fool. Or, she could sit on the ground.  _ Yes _ , she decided,  _ that’s what she’ll do _ . 

Hermione made her way to the centre of the room, when Ron sat up further, making room next to him on his bed. He wanted her to sit with him. She had done it so many times before, it would be strange not to, even if it felt so entirely different now. She changed course and sat next to Ron, teetering on the edge of the bed, not ready to be comfortable. 

“You couldn’t sleep either?”, Ron asked. 

Hermione shook her head. “Ginny and I ended up chatting, and then she wanted to talk to Harry.” She didn’t add that the plan was she was to talk with Ron as well. 

“He looked right scared,” Ron said with a laugh. 

Hermione laughed too. “I don’t think he needs to be. I think she just wants to know where they are, relationship-wise.”

“You don’t think that’s scary?”, Ron asked, still smirking. 

“It shouldn’t be, not for them at least. I mean it’s obvious Harry missed her.” It was obvious that Harry did more than miss Ginny, but Hermione didn’t vocalise it. 

Ron nodded his head and looked away. 

“We should probably talk about  _ that _ too,” he said softly. 

Hermione’s breath hitched. “If you want to,” she said. 

“Do you want to?”, Ron asked, turning his head back to her. 

“I- erm, yes, I suppose. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she said. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that, you’ve been through so much, and I’d understand if now isn’t a good time. And I don’t- I don’t want to push you away,” she said earnestly. “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered so quietly it was barely audible. 

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said pointedly, tentatively taking her hand. 

She looked at him but quickly looked away, feeling too overcome with emotions. 

“Okay, well,” she started. “I’d like to beinarelationship with you,” she said quickly. 

She didn’t look directly at Ron but could see his head nod in her peripheral vision. 

“Though,” she added. “I’m not sure that two kisses make a relationship.”

“What about three?”, Ron asked, moving his head closer to her.

She barely had time to nod before his lips were on hers, desperately but gently initiating that new phase of their relationship. 


	4. Chapter 4

“You need to get up.”

Hermione was awoken by a stern and determined statement. It took her a moment to orient herself. She was laying in Ron’s arms- in his bed- in his room. His arm was wrapped around her bare waist, as her shirt had risen during their sleep. He was awake and looking as bewildered as she was. She tried to recollect what happened the night before. With a blush, she remembered confessing her feelings to him (maybe not  _ all  _ of her feelings, but at least that she wanted a relationship) and him agreeing. Then they kissed. Then they snogged. Then… they fell asleep. Nothing more had happened. They were fully clothed, much to Hermione’s relief; she wasn’t ready to go  _ that _ far. At least, not yet.

She brought herself back to the present. If Ron hadn’t woken her, who had? She turned her head to look across the room. There stood Ginny, her hand dramatically across her eyes, so as not to see anything  _ inappropriate.  _

“Fleurs here, and she said we all have to meet in the sitting room,” Ginny continued, her eyes still covered for modesty. “I told her you were in the loo, but you better hurry up before she comes knocking again.” With that, Ginny apparated away. 

Hermione untangled herself from Ron’s arms. 

“I should get going,” she said. 

Ron nodded, not making eye contact with her, a bright red blush creeping up his face. 

“See you down there?”, she asked as she stood to leave, fixing her shirt as she did. 

“Yeah,” croaked Ron, bringing the covers up over himself as if he wasn’t completely clothed. 

Hermione apparated to Ginny's room. There she found a ruffled-looking Harry about to leave. He nodded in Hermione’s direction when she landed- he, too, burning red with a blush. 

As soon as Harry left, Ginny began her interrogation. 

“So?”, she asked Hermione in a sing-song voice. 

“Erm,” Hermione started, not sure of how much to disclose to Ginny, she was her boyfriend’s sister, after all. “We’re officially dating.”

“That’s great!”, Ginny exclaimed. Hermione was glad she wasn’t met with more moaning about how they should have gotten together ages ago. 

“Thanks,” Hermione responded. “What about you and Harry?”, she asked, though, by the state of Harry, she was pretty sure she could put together the pieces. 

“We, erm,  _ reconciled,”  _ Ginny said with a grin. 

“And that’s what you wanted?”, Hermione double-checked. 

“Yes”, Ginny responded simply. 

“Well, then I’m glad. I think you two work well together.”

Ginny smiled again. Knowing their plan was successful, the young women were able to get dressed for the day and headed out to the mysterious meeting. 

As soon as she hit the last stair, Hermione could tell something was different. She could sense the presence of numerous people; overhearing many whispered conversations. As she turned the corner, she could see a flurry of red hair. The entire Weasley family (or what was left of it) were there, including Molly and George, who hadn’t left their respective rooms since they got to the burrow. Sitting awkwardly on what looked like a breaking tree stump was Hagrid. Next to him sat Professor McGonagall. 

“Hermione, Ginny!”, Hagrid shouted in glee, jumping up quickly before stopping himself from standing fully and putting a hole in the ceiling. 

Hermione glanced at Ginny, who shrugged in confusion. The two of them made their way to greet the guests. They were quickly engulfed in a suffocating hug by Hagrid and shook hands with McGonagall (who corrected them calling her professor- she was headmistress now). As they were exchanging pleasantries, Ron and Harry stumbled down the stairs, looking just as confused as Hermione and Ginny. 

“Good,” said Arthur, “you’re all here. We’re waiting for Kingsley, and then we can start.”

“Start what exactly?”, asked Harry.

“We figured it was about time you three told us what you were up to,” said Charlie. 

“Right,” nodded Ron, looking solemn. 

“In the meantime, Fleur brought some pastries- they’re in the kitchen,” directed Arthur. 

After the young men welcomed the guests, the four of them headed into the kitchen. It was easy to feel the sense of unease that sat between the trio at the prospect of reliving their past year. Ginny must have felt it, because she excused herself, leaving the three of them alone. 

“Okay,” Hermione said in a hushed tone. “We need to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”, Ron asked with a mouth full of croissant. 

“It’s only, well there are things that I would prefer we don’t discuss,” Hermione said. 

“Yeah,” said Ron, thinking about Hermione’s statement, “same”.

“It would probably be best that the whole me-actually-dying-thing didn’t come out either,” said Harry. 

“Good,” Hermione said, “so we know the things that we’ll  _ gloss over. _ ”

The young men nodded their heads as a pop was heard outside. 

“Kingsley’s here,” shouted Molly. 

The three of them headed out to greet the new Minister. Ron stuffed another pastry in his mouth as they left. “I don’t know how they expect us to retell the whole story with an empty stomach,” said Ron. As if on command, his stomach growled. 

After more pleasantries, the trio was guided to the now-empty sofa. However, before they could be questioned, Hermione turned to address Kingsley. 

“Kings- er Minister,” she started. “What we're going to discuss here, erm, what protections do we have? I mean, if we  _ hypothetically _ were to break a law- or two, could we be persecuted?”

“Everything discussed here is completely confidential,” Kingsley said. “You will not be liable for any broken laws discussed, nor for any that were done for the purpose of defeating Tom Riddle.”

“Good,” said Hermione. She glanced at Harry, who looked perplexed, but nonetheless began the tale of their previous year. 

* * *

Even though they only talked; recounting the events of the past year was exhausting. They had finished with Kingsley agreeing that they needed to have a separate- safer story for the public and that he would work on figuring out what exactly to say. 

Before he left, he pulled them aside, letting them know that there were spots for them in the Aurors, if they wanted to join. To Hermione's surprise, neither of her friends looked excited at the prospect. They agreed to think about it. Though, she already knew her answer; no. No bloody way, as Ron would say. She was done fighting. 

McGonagall also offered them spots back at Hogwarts, to which the young men’s lack of excitement did not surprise Hermione. She couldn’t picture either of them choosing to spend another year at Hogwarts. She needed to do her NEWTs, but she couldn’t picture herself there without them. They had a lot of decisions to make. 

The rest of the afternoon passed without note. Though Molly was now up and out of bed. Andromeda Tonks was to visit later in the day with Teddy, presumably to talk about funeral plans, and Hermione could tell that Harry was a bit on edge at the prospect of meeting his Godson. 

The four of them found themselves idly waiting in the sitting room. As Hermione stood to retrieve a book for some sort of entertainment, the front door opened. 

It felt like time had stopped. An icy chill ran down Hermione's back.  _ She was back.  _ How? How could she be here? Hermione tried to reach for her wand, but she was frozen; glued to the floor. Her breathing was laboured and she felt her hands go numb. Instantly, she was transported back to that horrible night. She could feel the pain searing through her body, feel the terror in her mind, hear the screaming. Then, everything went black. 

She awoke on the couch, Ron huddled over her, looking distressed. 

“What…”, she started. 

“You fainted dear,” said Molly, who handed her a cup of tea. 

“Oh,” Hermione said simply. She looked past Ron’s distressed form as she took the tea from Molly. The Weasleys and Harry were looking at her cautiously. There was someone else as well. Hermione felt her breath hitch but was quickly calmed. This woman had light brown hair and soft eyes. It was Andromeda Tonks, and not her sister, as Hermione had originally thought. Andromeda avoided her eye contact, likely aware of the effect she had on Hermione. 

“How are you feeling?”, Ron asked. He was now sat awkwardly at the end of the couch she was laying on, not quite able to sit properly as her legs took up most of the space. 

“I’m alright,” Hermione lied. The truth was she felt like rubbish. She felt like she had right before she passed out; her heart was racing and her hands were numb and shaking. She tried to stop the shaking before anyone could notice. “I must not have eaten enough today,” she said, desperately not wanting anyone to know the truth, especially Andromeda. 

“Why don’t you go lay down?”, Molly suggested. “I’ll bring you some soup in a few.”

Hermione nodded her head and moved to get up. Ron offered his hand and she took it, still not feeling steady on her feet. He moved to help her to Ginny’s room when Molly interrupted. 

“Ginny, dear, why don’t you help Hermione? Ron is going to help me with the soup,” she stated. 

Ron gave Hermione a reluctant look as he was replaced with Ginny. Now that Molly was back, there was no way she was going to allow Ron and Hermione be alone, especially not in a bedroom. 

* * *

Pain overtook Hermione. Her arm was being sliced, but she could barely feel it over the reverberating pain from the multiple crucio curses that hit her. She was screaming. Then, she heard Ron scream. Suddenly she was no longer the one being tortured. Instead, Ron laid in her place. He was covered in blood, the words  _ blood traitor _ slashed across his chest. His eyes were closed and she couldn’t see him breathing. She screamed and tried desperately to get to him, but someone held her back. She pushed and shoved trying to get to him. 

“Hermione,” a voice rang out. “It’s okay. You’re safe, you’re safe Hermione. It’s over.”

She was in a pitch-black room, her screams still echoing around her. Someone was on top of her. She felt panic as she tried to push the person off. As she did, the figure quickly moved off of her. 

“It’s me, Hermione,” Ron said, as he magicked the lights on. 

She was back in Ginny’s room, surrounded by every one of the burrows inhabitants. Realisation washed over her. She had a nightmare; none of what she saw was real. She must have actually screamed and woken the entire house up. Her fear was quickly replaced with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry,” she croaked out quietly, now aware of the dried tears on her face. 

The others nodded and wished her well as they left the cramped room. Everyone left, except Ron. 

“Are you alright?”, he asked softly, placing his hand gently on hers. 

“Yes, I’m-,” she started. But she wasn’t able to finish; sobs exploded out of her. 

Ron rushed to her, cradling her in his arms. “I’m sorry,” she said again, though she was barely able to as her sobs were overpowering. 

She could feel Ron shake his head. “I’m sorry, ‘mione, I’m so, so sorry,” he said in a shaky voice. 

They stayed in that position for what felt like eternity; both crying over the trauma they had acquired. Eventually, Hermione pulled Ron down with her. Ron’s shirt was soaked with her tears, yet it was the best pillow she had ever had. They fell into a restless sleep, holding each other with desperation so that nothing could get between them again. 


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Hermione noticed when she awoke was pain flooding her body. It was becoming a regular thing for her to wake up in pain. Not just the typical aches and pains from an uncomfortable sleep, but actual, searing pain. She had hoped it was a side effect of the battle and would fade away. But that had yet to happen. 

The second thing Hermione noticed was that she was not alone; Ron was nestled to her awkwardly. His tall frame was too long for the camp bed and, because of that, his legs dangled off the edge of the bed. He had incredibly managed to keep his upper body on the bed, his arms wrapped protectively around her. 

In an instant, the events of the previous flashed before Hermione. She could vividly remember her nightmare and the terror it caused. She was then woken by Ron and quickly brought back to reality. And, of course, the entirety of the burrow’s inhabitants had gathered behind him, having been woken by her screams. She could picture them, looking tired but uneasy, jolted out of bed in the fear that she was truly in danger. But she wasn’t in danger, not really- it was all in her head. She was mortified. Mortified that they knew her secret; her weakness. How was she going to face them when she got up?

“Hey,” Ron said, taking his hand from around her waist and moving it to push stray curls off of her face. 

“Hi,” she responded. 

“How are you?”, he asked, looking troubled. 

“I’m alright,” she blurted, so used to having to lie. 

“What’s up?”, he asked, knowing her well enough to recognise she wasn’t telling the truth. “Did you have more nightmares?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she reassured. “It’s just- I’m a bit embarrassed.”

Ron immediately shifted, looking to be suddenly aware of his shirtless-ness. 

“Not of you,” she said hurriedly. “That I woke everyone up... because of a stupid bad dream.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that. I’m sure everyone was relieved you weren't hurt. Plus, it’s not like you’re the first one to wake the house with a nightmare. You do remember Harry, right?”, he joked. 

Hermione smiled slightly but didn’t feel reassured. She turned to see that Ginny was not in her bed. Hermione wondered if the other girl had woken up early, or if she had left the night before. She couldn’t remember if Ginny was there after her nightmare. Perhaps she wanted to give her and Ron privacy? 

The pair awkwardly moved to get up, fumbling over each other’s bodies. They were still getting used to one another. Ron offered his hand to her to help her get up, an act of chivalry and something more- a reminder that she wasn’t alone. 

* * *

Ron went back to his room to get dressed and was taking his sweet time, so Hermione decided to head down by herself. Hermione was met with hesitant glances as she entered the kitchen, but soon realised it was not because of her “episode” the night before. Ginny, Harry, and Charlie were gathered around a newspaper. As Hermione got closer, she could see it was the  _ Daily Prophet.  _

Ginny’s eyes glistened with tears, and she stood as soon as Hermione got near, running back to her room. Harry went after her, leaving Hermione alone with Charlie. 

“Tea?”, he asked, standing from the table they had gathered at. 

“Yes, thank you,” she said. Charlie was the one Weasley’s she did not know well, and he did not seem to want to talk about whatever the Prophet held. Instead, she was left by herself with the enigmatic reading material. 

She quickly skimmed the front page. There was a picture of the trio, which looked to be taken right after Voldemort was defeated. They appeared haggard and exhausted. Hermione would be the first to admit it was not a flattering photo, but she was certain it wasn’t the cause of her friend’s distress. 

Above the photo read;  _ The Golden Trio- What Really Happened? Exclusive interview with fellow Hogwarts Student Millicent Bulstrode  _ pages 3-5. She guffawed to herself at the ridiculousness of Millicent knowing anything about them before continuing to scan the front page. 

There was a small quip about the Death Eater trials starting soon and a list of those still in the run, including Lucius Malfoy. 

Below it was a list of names with short descriptions, which continued into the next page. They were the names of all who were lost during the battle. 50 people in all had died. Which was notably 3 more people since Hermione had read the list of dead the day before. 

Three people had succumbed to the injuries they sustained during the battle. There was Olivia Green, a former Ravenclaw and healer, who left behind two children and five grandchildren. Gabriel Lithgow, a Slytherin just a year above Hermione, one who had gone against most in his house, and ended up dying at the hands of his fellow students' father. Lastly, there was Lavender Brown. 

Hermione read the name with a gasp. She knew Lavender was in Saint Mungo’s recovering from her injuries, but she was  _ sure _ she would recover. She had found what upset her friends. Lavender was a big part of the new DA and Hermione knew that Ginny had grown close with her. 

While Lavender wasn’t her favourite person, especially after the Ron debacle, her death still hit Hermione. She felt a mix of grief and guilt, wishing she was nicer to the young woman when she was still alive. Even if she had envied her, Hermione never would have wished her dead. In a way, Lavender’s death was the straw that broke the camel's back- another death of someone so young and full of life. Hermione could feel tears rising in her throat, but pushed them down. She was the last person who it would be acceptable to mourn Lavender's death. 

Ron walked over and woke Hermione from her reverie. 

“Oh you know me and ol’ Millicent were best mates, we go way back,” he joked, while looking over the main article of the Prophet. “You were good friends with her cat, weren’t you?”, he said as he nudged Hermione's shoulder in play. Then, he saw her face and his tone changed immediately. “What’s wrong?”, he asked, looking concerned and taking a seat next to Hermione. 

“More have died from the battle,” she said vaguely. She didn’t want to be the one to tell Ron that Lavender was dead. How do you tell someone their ex, the woman you despised, was dead? How was he going to take it? Would he be upset? Of course he would. As complicated as their relationship was, he still cared about her. For some reason, she dreaded his reaction the more than the act of telling him. 

“Including Lavender,” she said sorrowfully, looking directly into his eyes. 

“Oh,” he said. She stared at his face, trying desperately to read his expression, but it was blank. She moved to put a hand on his shoulder but was interrupted when Charlie came in with her tea. Charlie mentioned needing to de-nome the garden and Ron instantly took him up on it. The pair left, leaving Hermione alone to her thoughts, once again. 

* * *

That evening was their first funeral- a triple burial. The small stone church was half-filled, mostly by what was left of the Order. A tiny man droned on about the importance of family and how those we love never truly leave us. But Hermione knew the words were little comfort for the woman sitting in the front pew clutching a sleeping baby, having lost her husband, daughter, and son-in-law. 

They were led to the nearby gravesite, the three coffins magically leading the way. Hermione clutched Ron’s robes as they were lowered into the ground, silently sobbing for the loss of their professor and friends. The couple had yet to talk more about Lavender. In fact, they had yet to talk much at all. There seemed to be a constant array of chores that Ron took on, ones that he would normally moan about, which kept him from her. She knew they needed to talk, but she also knew she needed to give him time.

Across the way, Andromeda was wailing so loud that she woke the once-peaceful Teddy. Teddy joined her wails and Molly quickly went over to support them. The women held each other, brought together by the most unimaginable pain- the deaths of their children. 

Harry hesitantly joined the women and took Teddy in his arms. He stared down at the infant with a look of mixed emotions. Hermione felt her heart tug for him. She could see that he was lost; now responsible for this new life in which he had no idea how to handle. But Hermione could see something else, something Harry's face had shone often in the past week- guilt. She knew he felt responsible for every one of the deaths that had taken place. As much as she and Ron tried to reassure him, he was dead set on it being his fault. She knew the weight of it all would crush him soon if he didn’t stop. 

* * *

Hermione gently opened the door to Ginny’s room after changing into her pyjamas in the loo. Inside, she could see Harry and Ginny sitting closely on Ginny’s bed, talking in hushed tones. As soon as they saw Hermione, Harry stood to leave, giving Hermione a nod and an arm squeeze as he did. Ginny looked so small all alone on her bed, Hermione half-wished that Harry would come back to comfort her. She was sure the other woman would prefer Harry over her (at least in this moment) anyway. 

“Hey,” said Hermione as she headed to her camp bed. 

“Hi,” replied Ginny quietly as she tucked herself into her own bed. 

The air between them felt thick- full of the awkwardness of what they had yet to talk about. Hermione wanted to comfort Ginny, to be there for her, but she had no idea of where to start; she wasn’t used to Ginny being the one who needed comfort. 

Neither girl turned off their light, waiting for the other to do it first, or to decide they wouldn’t be sleeping and would be having a heart-to-heart instead. 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione finally spoke up. Ginny turned to face her in confusion. “About Lavender and Colin, and everything.” Ginny’s face changed to realisation. 

“Yeah,” Ginny started, apparently also not sure on how to proceed. “We were close,” she whispered. 

“I know,” Hermione said. “I don’t know how you’re dealing with it- you’ve lost so many friends.”

Ginny nodded before crumbling into tears. Hermione rushed to her side, placing a reassuring arm around her friend. 

“Merlin,” Ginny said between sobs. “The tears never fuckin’ stop. You’d think I’d eventually run out!”

Hermione smiled half-heartedly and agreed. 

“It was so different without you three,” Ginny said, referring to her last year at Hogwarts. “I mean it was terrible, and not just because you were gone. We had to step up, you know? Me, Neville, Luna, Seamus, Lavender, even Colin,” she said before being overtaken by another burst of sobs. 

“We had to protect the young ones,” she continued on her tale, not appearing able to stop once she had started. “No one should have to deal with the cruciatus curse,” she said and Hermione winced unintentionally, “but especially not first years. And it wasn’t just that, it was no longer safe to walk the halls. The Slytherins, and anyone who agreed with them, had all their power; they could do whatever they wanted without repercussions.”

“We started the DA again, partially just for morale; everything seemed so helpless. I woke up each day bracing for the news that Harry was dead and that it was all over. But, we had to be strong. We had to do what ever we could. Did you know that we tried to steal the Sword of Gryffindor?”

Hermione nodded her head. 

“Well, that went about as well as you’d expect,” Ginny half-joked. “It’s all over now,” she continued. “But, it’s really not, is it? They’re dead and there are still death eaters. I should be happy, Harry’s alive, you’re alive, Ron’s alive. But, they're all dead and I just can’t.”

Hermione pulled Ginny closer towards her, squeezing her and feeling a bit like a momma bear. She would give anything for her friend to be happy, but she knew it would take time. It had only been days since the battle. She suspected that it would take months, if not years, for them to recover from what they experienced. 

Ginny eventually calmed down and thanked Hermione for her support. Hermione didn’t feel like she deserved thanks- she hadn’t done anything. She headed back to her bed, dreading the next day. Colin’s wizard memorial was tomorrow, and Fred’s funeral was the day after. She knew that it was going to be an especially difficult couple of days. 

Hermione turned out her light, waiting for sleep to overtake her. Just as she was about to fall asleep, a realisation hit her- she could have another nightmare tonight. The idea of waking the house up, yet again, filled her with anxiety. So, she took her wand from under her pillow and cast a silencing spell around her bed. That way, at least they wouldn’t be woken up. 


	6. The Funeral- Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW- Suicide idelation

Hermione woke to find Ginny sitting on the edge of her camp bed. She was surprised to see that Ginny was already dressed, sitting solemnly in her funeral blacks. It was unusual to see the other woman up so early. Although, Hermione supposed, today was a special day- it was the day of Fred’s funeral. She figured the Ginny was anxious for the day to be over. 

“Morning,” Ginny said, notably leaving out the ‘good’. She didn’t look sad, or at least not quite. In fact, she looked a bit manic, her legs jittering and her eyes wide. “Look, we need to talk.”

Hermione felt the air leave her chest. Though she expected today to be tough, she didn’t expect such a rude awakening. She sat up in her bed, letting Ginny know she was ready to talk. 

“I know somethings up, more than what you’ve said,” Ginny started. “I know you, and you’re not you. We’ve all been through a lot, but I can still tell somethings wrong. And I can’t help if I don’t know.” Ginny took a breath as if to let Hermione respond. Hermione felt so taken aback by what Ginny was saying, that she was caught speechless. So, Ginny continued. “You’re so much quieter, you’re always flinching, you’ve been having those nightmares, and there was the time you passed out. Plus, you’re always covered up. It’s been well hot, and you’re still wearing jumpers. You even change in the loo. I’m not a creep, or whatever; it’s just not what you used to do.”

Hermione nodded her head. Ginny really did know her well. As odd as it was, she didn’t feel tears or anxiety rise up in her. Perhaps she was out of tears. Or maybe she trusted Ginny enough to finally feel comfortable to talk about it. 

“You’re right,” Hermione said, “I haven’t been completely truthful. It’s not much, especially considering all that you went through at Hogwarts. However, when we were taken to Malfoy Manor, the boys were sent to the dungeon and I was,” she took a deep breath- “tortured”. 

Ginny nodded in understanding and put her hand on Hermione’s arm. “I suppose I’m not coping with it as well as I’d like,” Hermione said thoughtfully. 

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Ginny said. “At first, it was because of Fred,” she paused. “But, I can’t do anything about that, can I?”, her voice wavered, still she continued. “So I thought of what I  _ can _ do. And it’s like, you’re here, Harry’s here, Luna’s here, and you’re all suffering. I can’t just sit here and let that happen. I've got to help. With Luna, it’s so tough, because she doesn’t show emotions like a normal person. She’s got such a tough exterior, and it’s hard to break through. Her dad’s back, and I know she’s ecstatic about that. Yet, I know she’s also dealing with what happened when she was taken. And she won’t talk about it, she won’t visit.” Tears were now falling steadily down Ginny’s face. Hermione had taken to rubbing her free arm, so they were in an open hug. 

“And then there’s Harry. You know what he’s like,” she said with a sarcastic smile. “It all weighs on him.” Hermione nodded in agreement. “I honestly think he’s taking everyone’s death’s the hardest. I try to talk to him but he does everything in his power to distract me. Which, at first, I liked. It had been so long…,” Ginny paused, lost in reverie, “ now, it’s like he’s not really there. And I don’t know what to do. So then, there’s you. And I’ve got no idea what’s going on. I have no idea what you’ve been through. I’ve got no idea of how to support you.”

Hermione felt tears running down her face. She could see how much Ginny cared for her. Her extraction technique might be brash, but it was done out of love. She reached to close their hug. They held each other for minutes before finally releasing. 

“You have helped me, Ginny,” Hermione said. “I honestly have been worried about helping you.” Ginny gave a watery laugh. 

“We’re both messes, aren’t we?”, Ginny laughed. 

“Yes,” Hermione agreed with a smile, though her face quickly changed. There was a part of her story she needed to share. She sighed and raised the hem of her left sleeve. “This is why I’m always covered up,” she said, revealing the  _ mudblood _ scar on her arm. She looked up at Ginny, terrified of what her expression would read.  _ Fear, disgust, _ or worse- _ pity?  _

Ginny’s face read none of the expressions Hermione expected. Instead, she gave a knowing look and clasped Hermione's right hand. “She used a cursed knife, so the scars will never fade. I haven’t shown anyone, in fact, I’m not sure Harry even knows. Fleur and Ron patched me up after, however, other than that…”

“I won’t tell,” Ginny promised. 

Hermione lowered her sleeve right as Harry knocked on the door. He entered half-dressed, wearing fancy trousers and an undershirt. He studied the two women, both with tear-stained faces and disturbed expressions- he probably thought it was because of the funeral. 

He kneeled next to Ginny, offering her his hand. Hermione looked away- she had never seen such a tender look in his eyes. 

“Ron’s not getting up,” he said, turning to Hermione. “I tried everything I could think of…”

“I’ll go,” Hermione said. She stood, pausing for a second at the door; today was going to be a long day. 

* * *

She found Ron still in his bed, facing the wall. She had knocked to no response and announced herself when she entered. Still, he did not budge. She could see his body move with each breath- quickening when she entered. He may be a heavy sleeper, but there was no way that he was asleep right now. 

“Hi,” she said gently. She went to put her hand on his back though thought better of it at the last minute. They had touched so many times before, yet this felt different. She didn’t want to push him, to make him feel like he had to be intimate- especially today. Instead, she took a seat on the floor next to his bed. Her breath was still, waiting for his response, but, as there was none, she continued. “It’s time to get ready,” she said. It was still morning and Fred’s funeral was to be at noon. It wasn’t a typical funeral time because the Weasley’s had to coordinate with other families who had lost someone. This evening was to be a different student's funeral. 

“‘M not going,” he mumbled. 

“What?”, she blurted in shock. She had figured that he was tired, that he would need a little extra prodding to get up, as he did most mornings. Not that he wasn’t planning to get up. 

She stared at his unmoving form, unsure of what to do. Though she was sure of one thing, she needed to talk some sense into him. 

“You have to go, Ron. It’s Fred- you can't just  _ not  _ go.”

“I can and I will,” Ron argued, reminding Hermione of a petulant child. 

“Ron,” she begged, “you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“You think I don’t already regret it!”, he nearly shouted, still facing the wall. “It should have been me,” he added ever-so quietly. 

“Ron,” she said, matching his whispering tone. “You can’t possibly- no one should- I know we were ready, but still,” Hermione couldn’t finish her sentences, so overwhelmed at the possibility of saying the wrong thing. “Ron, look at me! I can’t talk to the back of your head,” she spat out, frustrated with her own ineptitude.

He turned over cautiously, revealing a tear-stained face to Hermione. She wanted nothing more than to hold him. Than to tell him that she was so thankful he was alive and with her. However, instead, she sat on the edge of his bed, careful not to allow their bodies to touch. 

“Ron,” she started, “I know we were ready to-to,” she stumbled on the right word choice, “sacrifice ourselves if necessary.” She knew this reality well. Many nights in the tent were spent with her trying to come to terms with her mortality. She didn’t expect to make it through the war. She even planned to make a will, until she realised she had nothing of value to bequeath. “But, that doesn’t mean you  _ should _ have died.”

“So Fred-,” Ron interjected. 

“Fred shouldn’t have died either,” she said. 

“He had so much,” Ron said. “His shop, his friends- mum isn’t even cooking. And George. They’ll never be the same,” he stared up at the ceiling. “If it had been me, it would be easier.”

“For who?”, Hermione exclaimed. “Your mum and George would be devastated too. And Harry. And me. I would never be the same, Ron,” she said with tears in her eyes. “Your death wouldn’t be any better, or worse than Fred’s. You don’t deserve it any more than he did.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Though Fred does deserve to have his little brother at his funeral. George, your mum, Ginny, they all deserve to have you there. To grieve together.”

Ron had been avoiding her eye contact but looked up hesitantly at her last statement. 

“And I’ll be there,” she said. “However much you want me to be. I can stay by your side the whole time, or let you be with your family. I’m here, Ron, I always will be.”

Ron nodded in understanding, taking her hand that had been so dangerously close to his. He leaned in, and for a moment Hermione thought he might kiss her. Though instead, he collapsed into her arms, sobbing as she held him. 

His tears finally subsided and Hermione went to get his dress robes for him. His hideous Yule Ball robes had been mysteriously replaced with simple, black ones on the day of the first funeral. Harry swore it wasn’t him, and no one else fessed up. However, Hermione had seen Bill sneak out of Ron’s room just hours before the discovery. 

She brought over his change of clothes as he sat up on the bed. He looked incredibly frail; his back hunched and his arms hanging loosely at his side. His face was still wet and had such a strong look of sadness that Hermione was worried that it may become stuck that way. 

He looked in no condition to do much of anything, let alone dress himself. So, Hermione decided she had to help. She reached over to the hem of his shirt and he lifted himself arms, not protesting her undressing him. She felt her breath hitch as she did, and couldn’t help but feel the tension that she was causing. She tried desperately not to look at his uncovered chest, to see the freckles that adorned it, and the ginger hair that made a trail down…

She hurriedly picked up his undershirt and haphazardly pushed it on his head, not wanting to give in to the temptation she was feeling. He reacted slightly to the forcefulness of her dressing him, still, he reached his hands through nonetheless. 

Once she had finished the top half of his body, she hesitated, staring at the trousers he was to wear. Though, before she could pick them up, Harry walked through the door. 

“I -erm, think I can do the rest,” Ron said into her ear. She nodded and stood to leave when he reached out and gently grasped her arm. “You’ll come back, though?”, he asked. 

“Yes, of course,” she responded. He let go of her arm and she made her way back to Ginny’s room to change. 


	7. The Funeral- Part 2

When Hermione made it back to Ginny’s room, Harry had gone. Ginny explained that he left to help set up for the funeral. She seemed calmer than earlier; her legs were still and her demeanour was relaxed. She was propped up her bed, flipping through an old _Seeker_ _Weekly_. If someone were to glance over her, they would likely think that she was engrossed in an article about the newest spells for cushioning brooms. But, Hermione could see through the facade; her eyes weren’t focused on the words of the magazine. Instead, they were staring just beyond it, her mind distracted. Ginny was doing a good job of looking okay, the puffiness under her eyes had gone. Hermione guessed she had used a beauty spell to get rid of it.

Hermione went to her closet to pick out her funeral dress. She barely owned any black clothes beyond her school uniform and had even fewer dresses. She had to rummage through her school trunk to find the one she did. It wasn’t perfect; it was much too short and sleeveless. Hermione did her best to add length and sleeves, but her altering magic skills weren’t the best. 

She automatically went to go to the loo to change, but then remembered that Ginny had seen her scar. She didn’t have to hide anymore. So, she changed into the dress, trying desperately not to feel self-conscious or think about how much weight she had lost over the past year.

“Here,” said Ginny after Hermione had dressed, walking over from her bed. “Let me fix this.” She reached over and took Hermione's right arm and magically lengthened the sleeve. Hermione hadn’t noticed, but before Ginny performed her magic, her right sleeve was a couple of inches shorter than her left. 

“Thank you,” Hermione said, and she reached over to hug Ginny. They held each other much longer than a typical “thank you” hug, trying to gain strength from one another to get through the rest of the day. 

A quiet knock at Ginny’s bedroom door caused the women to break their hug. Hermione opened the door to find a timid-looking Ron. He was now fully dressed for the day, though he didn’t look much better than he had when Hermione left him. His head was hung and his face looked defeated and anxious. 

Out of habit, a small smile curled on Hermione's face at the sight of him. But, she quickly got rid of it; now was not the time for smiles. 

Silently, Ron reached for her hand and the three of them made their way down the stairs. 

A small half-eaten spread adorned the dining table. It looked like it had been picked off by the other inhabitants of the burrow. There was a plate of bread and croissants next to an almost empty bowl of scrambled eggs. Hermione wondered to herself who had prepared the meal, as it was clear to her that the normal cook of the house, Mrs Weasley, was in no place to be doing much of anything. 

As they went to sit down, Harry came in from outside, joining them for their tepid breakfast. Harry and Hermione made plates for Ginny and Ron, respectively. Hermione added two croissants (his favourite) to Ron’s plate and a majority of the now-cold eggs. After warming up the eggs, she went to the kitchen to make tea for them. 

When she got back with the tea, none of them had eaten much of anything, which was especially unusual for Ron. She poured tea for everyone. Out of habit, she added four sugars to Ron’s tea before handing it to him. They sipped and nibbled in silence, everyone lost in their own world. 

Time passed in a haze, and soon it was time to take their places for the funeral. The burrow’s grounds had been transformed. It reminded Hermione of Bill and Fleur’s wedding. She couldn’t believe that the wedding was only a year ago. If someone told her it happened a decade ago, she would have believed them. 

While the set up was reminiscent of the wedding, it was notably drearier. There was no tent, as it was a sunny summer day- which Hermione couldn’t help feel was ironic. There were simple black chairs placed in rows, facing a podium and a casket. 

Even though she had expected it, she could help but make a tiny gasp when she saw the casket. She looked over at Ron in concern, but his face was entirely unreadable. 

Slowly they headed to the chairs, some guests already sitting in the seats. Bill, Fleur, and Charlie were sitting in the front row, which was presumably for family. Both Ginny and Ron headed towards them, but Hermione and Harry held back. They weren’t family- not really- and they didn’t want to assume their importance. 

Ginny turned to sit down and saw Hermione and Harry dawdling. With a huff, she walked back and grabbed both of their hands. She led them to the front row with purpose and they all sat; Ginny beside Harry, beside Ron, beside Hermione. 

It didn’t take long before the funeral started, George and an already-crying Molly sitting right before it began. Ron grabbed Hermione's hand as soon as the minister started preaching, and didn’t let go throughout the whole procession. 

Bill and Lee gave moving speeches, with Lee trying to add humour to the solemn event. Hermione didn’t pay much attention to the speeches. Partly because she was worried she would break down if she listened to them. And partly because she couldn’t stop worrying about Ron. His hand squeezed hers, getting progressively tighter as time passed. But, that didn’t worry her. What worried her was his face. Every time she sneaked a glance at him, his face was stoic and hardened- almost looking pained at how unemotional it was.  _ Had she pushed him too hard? _ Maybe he should have stayed in his room. 

When Fred’s body was lowered into the former quidditch pitch, Molly’s quiet cries turned into loud sobs, and Hermione, as well as most of the guests, couldn’t help but cry too. 

As soon as it was over, Ron almost ran back to the burrow, still holding Hermione’s hand and therefore almost dragging her across the grounds. 

He barely made it to his room before he collapsed in sobs. Unlike past times, Hermione knew what to do. She engulfed him with her body, holding him tightly. 

After he was drained of his tears, they decided it was best for him to take sleeping drought. Even though it was only the afternoon, he was exhausted and in need of a break from his despair. 

Hermione got the sleeping drought and waited with him until he fell asleep. She could have used a nap, as well. But, she knew there were things to do and people to help. She got up from her spot kneeling next to Ron’s bed and headed downstairs to do just that. 

* * *

After hours of cooking and cleaning, everything has finally been taken care of. Ginny had headed to bed early (also with the aid of sleeping drought). Harry invited Hermione to go out with some of Fred's friends and brothers. Apparently, they were planning on having their own kind of memorial at no less than three pubs. Hermione declined, not feeling like she was a part of Fred’s friends. 

She had a quick dinner of leftover soup by herself before quietly grabbing a book to read in the sitting room. She didn’t want to wake up Ginny, but she also wanted to stay up until Harry got back. Just in case. 

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she had almost fallen asleep when Harry and Bill apparated into the living room, giving her a fright. Bill was level-headed and was the one who apparated Harry. He offered to put the very-drunk Harry to sleep, but Hermione waved him off and took over the babysitting duty. 

Harry was very quiet, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he couldn’t stand straight, Hermione wouldn’t have been able to guess that he was drunk. She assisted/heaved Harry to his bed as quietly as she could. He immediately fell haphazardly into his camp bed with a loud groan. So loud, in fact, that Hermione checked to see if Ron was awoken. He was still sound asleep, so Hermione tended to Harry.

She tried to get him to lay on his side, which was challenging as his drunken self wanted nothing more than to lay on his back. Eventually, she succeeded and accio’d a bucket next to his bed. 

“Thanksss,” Harry said with a slur as Hermione tucked him in. 

Out of habit, she shushed him, but then quietly added “you’re welcome” as she left. 

* * *

It felt like the second Hermione had fallen asleep that she awoke. It wasn’t from a nightmare or the other occupants of the burrow. No, this time it was from her body. It felt like she was engulfed in flames, burning from her head to her toes. But, there was no fire to be seen. She was alone in her bed with no explanation for the excruciating pain she was in. 

Well, she did have one explanation. The pain reminded her of the cruiatous curse; only slightly less painful than what she remembered. She had woken in pain many days since her torture, though those episodes were nothing like right now. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to scream out in pain. Bile rose up her throat, and it took everything in her to get up and run to the loo. 

She barely made it to the sink. She hoped she would feel better after being sick. But no pain subsided. Instead, she was exhausted, her face pale and hollow in her reflection. Despite her best efforts, a cry of pain emerged from her lips. She reached for her wand to perform a silencing spell on the room and noticed her hands were shaking violently. 

After silencing the room, she allowed herself to sob. Tears tumbled out of her as she clutched the sink to stay upright. Her thoughts were murky, like they were trapped beneath a cloud of pain and despair. She urged her brain to come up with something to do.

She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to rush into Ron’s arms and have him hold her until the pain went away. But even through the brain fog, she knew that was a bad decision. He had just buried his brother and was in no shape to take on her problems. He needed his rest. Merlin knew she did too, but right now she had to focus on relieving the pain.

She fumbled through the potion cabinet, knocking over contents as she did. Desperately, she scanned each bottle quickly, pushing past multiple skele-gro’s and blood replenishing potions. Finally, she found a small vial at the back of the cabinet, it covered in dust with a faded label which read “pain relief.” 

The bottle was almost empty, only a small bit of golden potion visible when Hermione opened it. Still, she downed the whole thing. It was only a couple of drops, but she immediately felt some comfort. Her mind cleared and her heartbeat slowed. She was still in pain, but at least now she could think clearly. 

She decided to draw a bath, hoping that the heat would help her pain. Fighting fire with fire didn’t seem like the best idea, but it was the only one she had beyond waking the house up and going to Saint Mungo’s.

And she didn’t want to do that. 

So, she hastily undressed and sat in the tub holding her knees and waiting for the rest of the potion to kick in. 

* * *

Hermione had finally made it to bed at around half-past four in the morning. Her sleep was uneasy and disturbed. She woke up with soreness from her restless sleep and residual pain from the night before. There was a big part of her that didn’t want to face the day. As if knowing what she was thinking, Crookshanks mewed at the end of her bed (where he was often found sleeping) reminding her that it was past time for him to be fed. She had no choice but to get up, remembering that there was something besides feeding Crookshanks that she needed to do. 

Gingerly getting out of her bed, she noticed that Ginny was already gone. It was past 9 in the morning, much later than Hermione would normally sleep. Nevertheless, she needed to take a bit more time. She went to her and Ginny’s shared desk and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. 

As she went to write, she felt nausea rise in her, once again. Though this time she knew it was because of nerves. 

She took a deep breath, trying to think of what exactly she was going to say. She needed to tell Kingsley about her parents. Which would require her telling him about all of the laws she broke. After all, magically altering others memories, especially muggles, was not legal, and neither was creating new identities through non-official means. She hoped that all of what she did fell under “actions taken for the defeat of Tom Riddle”. She figured he was her best chance of seeing them again. She couldn’t do it alone; international floo travel was tricky, especially right now, will all of the extra safety precautions being made. 

She could try someone lower in the ministry first. Though the only people she knew who worked there were Weasley’s, and she didn’t want to bother them. 

Kingsley has written to her (as well as Ron and Harry) a few days previously about the official story about their past year. He wanted to make sure that they agreed with the version and asked them to meet him to finalise it. She figured that the meeting would be a great time to talk to Kingsley about her parents, but she wanted to get the important information to him first. 

_ Dear Minister Shaklebolt,  _ she wrote. She tried to be as careful with her wording as possible, so as not to incriminate her more. Even so, she ended up writing a foot and a half before she folded it up, addressed it, and gave it to Errol, hoping it would all work out. 


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a few days since Fred’s funeral and things were starting to calm down. The hellish week of funerals was over- which meant that they should be moving on, or at least forward. But, for some reason, that was almost as scary to Hermione as all of the deaths were.

She had no idea what to do with her life. As a child, she envisioned herself as a solicitor, or a librarian, or a veterinarian. Once she entered Hogwarts, her eyes were opened, and she was overwhelmed by all of the possibilities. Still, her passions stayed the same and her career preferences were only altered slightly. She thought of working in the Ministry as some sort of legislator, going to bat for magical creatures and those without power. Or maybe she would become a magical librarian. She could picture herself working in the Hogwarts library; enjoying the immense literature available in between shushing children and lecturing troublemakers. But then, the war happened. She pushed down any aspirations she had. It was too hard and painful to think of a future she likely wouldn’t have. Now, it felt like she had a minuscule amount of time to make some of the biggest decisions of her life. 

Before she could make any life-changing decisions, she needed to go to her parents to change their memories back. Or, at the very least, to see that they are okay. However, she hadn’t heard back from Kingsley, and their meeting wasn’t for another week. 

Other than that… well, there were too many options. She hadn’t talked much to Harry or Ron about it, but it seemed like they were going to join the Aurors. If they did that, she would be on her own. She could go back to Hogwarts. It would be her best option, as it was unlikely she would be able to get a good job without NEWTs. On top of that, it would give her another year to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. 

But, that would mean that she would have to go back to Hogwarts alone. Or at least without her best friends- without Ron. She couldn’t imagine herself there without them. Of course, she didn’t want to be  _ that  _ girl- the one who buggers up their education for a boy. She would just have to suck it up. 

She didn’t know why, but, it wasn’t just the idea of going to Hogwarts without Harry and Ron that gave her pause. It was also the idea of going back to Hogwarts at all. She wasn’t sure she could stomach being in that building again. Whenever she pictured her once-home all she could see was carnage, blood splatters, and death. It would be a challenge to be there at all, let alone try to learn. 

All of these possibilities were running through her head as she tried, in vain, to sleep. As she was straining her mind to think of what careers she could have without NEWTs, she heard the bedroom door open. Unfortunately, she was facing away from the door, unable to see if Ginny was leaving or someone was entering. She grasped her wand out of habit and slowly turned to get a look. 

She was only able to see a flash of red hair as the door closed. Ginny was still in her bed, sound asleep, so it wasn’t her. Hermione had an idea of who the mysterious intruder was, and quietly put on her slippers to follow the trespasser down the stairs. 

He was well ahead of her, and by the time she got to the landing, he was already out the front door. She paused for a moment to decide if she should follow him. Maybe he wanted to be alone? They had barely talked over the past couple of days- she was trying to give him some space. But now she was worried. What if he was rethinking their whole relationship? After all, the start of it was hasty and not thought out. Not to mention in a time of high stress. Maybe now that the fear was over, he could see with a clear mind. And that mind didn’t want her. 

She huffed silently to herself and began walking towards the front door. Standing here worrying wasn’t going to help anything. If he wanted to break it off, she might as well know now. 

A light fog rested over the landscape, and, at first, Hermione didn’t see Ron sitting on the front steps of the burrow. He turned his head when she opened the door. “Hey,” he said, smiling softly when he realised it was her. 

“Hi,” she replied. She stood in the door frame, pausing for a moment to decide her next actions. She knew she must look silly just standing there, and was likely letting bugs into the house, so she carefully closed the front door and sat next to Ron.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said, turning to look at her in concern.

“No, I hadn’t fallen asleep yet.” She had no idea what time it was or if it was ridiculous to still be awake. The night was dark, with only the fog and a porch light illuminating them.

“Is everything okay?”, she asked. “It  _ was _ you who was at our door?”, she added. 

“Yeah, erm, sorry about that,” he said, rubbing his neck. Even in the dark, Hermione could see guiltiness on his face. 

“It’s alright,” she responded, “did you need something?” 

“No, nothing like that. It just-,” he paused, then shook his head, “I probably sound barmy.” Hermione’s curiosity had peaked, and she urged him to continue. 

“When we were on the run, I knew where you and Harry were- mostly,” he lowered his head regretfully. Hermione shyly put her hand on his shoulder, as a reminder that she forgave him for leaving them.

“But now,” he took a deep breath and swallowed. “I can’t stop thinking that you- that something is happening, and I’m not there. So, sometimes I check on you. To make sure.”

“You’ve done this before?”, she asked inquisitively, shocked that she had slept through these other instances.

“Erm, yeah. Pretty much every night since we got back.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, surprised. She glanced at Ron’s face and he looked incredibly embarrassed. “I understand,” she reassured. “Or at least I think I do,” she added, not wanting to assume his feelings. “I worry about you too, and Harry. It  _ was _ easier when we were in the tent.” 

Ron nodded his head, looking slightly relieved. Hermione replaced her head with her hand and cuddled into his arms. There were barely any stars in the sky, still, they stared out into the abyss for some time. Hermione felt at peace for the first time in a while, however, when Ron spoke, his tone disquieted her.

“‘Mione,” he said warily. “Erm,” he took a deep breath, “are we okay?”

_ Oh, Merlin _ , she thought,  _ this was it, they were having  _ the  _ conversation.  _ She could feel her heart begin to race as Ron continued. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Ron said matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” Realisation hit her- this was all her fault- any trouble they were having were due to her actions. “Goodness no,” she said emphatically. “I was trying to give you space- you know, with everything that happened. But I wasn’t trying to avoid you.”

Ron paused, apparently thinking over her statement. “What makes you think I would want space from you?”, he asked calmly but pointedly. “With everything we’ve been through together, haven’t you figured out that I want you? That I’d rather spend more time with you, not less? No matter what’s happened.”

Hermione sighed, not sure if her sigh was out of relief or frustration. “I suppose so,” she said. “I don’t know, Ron. I don’t know what you want or when you want to talk to me.” The words tumbled out of her. “This is new to me.”

Ron looked at her in reassurance. “It’s new to me too,” he said as he took his hand in hers. 

Hermione nodded, now knowing that she felt relieved. “Do you want to talk now?”, she offered.

“About what?”, he asked. 

_ Merlin, he could be dense sometimes _ , she thought. 

“Whatever you need to- Fred or Lupin or Lavender.” She added Lavender's name with a touch of trepidation. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, now seeming to be on the same page as her. “It’s-“, he started with a heavy sigh, breaking eye contact with Hermione as he did. “I don’t know how to feel about Lavender. I feel like such a prick; I should be sad. And I am, but with Fred- that’s overwhelming. I haven’t been able to think about her or Lupin or Tonks or anyone who died without thinking about him.” He continued to avoid looking at Hermione as if he couldn’t bear to. “Fuck,” he nearly shouted, “I don’t want to think about him.”

The pair was drenched in silence again. Hermione rested her head on Ron’s shoulder, trying to comfort him without being  _ too  _ physical.

“I didn't get invited to her funeral,” he said out of the blue. “I don’t think she would want me there. I mean, I was a complete dick to her. I didn’t love her, I used her. I used her to get to you. And I don’t think I’ll forgive myself for that. I hurt both of you.”

His voice was so full of hurt and anger towards himself. Hermione was at a loss of what to do. She had forgiven Ron, long ago, for his charades with Lavender. However, she couldn’t give him what he needed right now- forgiveness from Lavender. She curled into his body, planning to remind him that she forgave him (and, frankly had been just as bad) when he spoke again. 

“I’ve been making this all about me,” he said, shaking his head. “I know you’re going through things too, and I haven’t even asked you about it. I guess I’m still an arse.”

“No,” Hermione said hurriedly, not wanting him to blame himself further. “I really have been fine,” she knew she was lying, but she didn’t want to make things worse for Ron, “especially compared to what you and your family are going through.”

“Yeah, but what about your family? We should go get them soon, right?”, he said as if he was just remembering their situation. “Shit, I’m sorry Hermione, you probably wanted to go sooner.”

“It’s alright, there’s been a lot going on,” she reassured. “I sent an owl to Kingsley. He hasn’t gotten back to me, but hopefully, he can set something up soon.” Ron nodded his head but still looked uneasy. “But, you don’t have to come with me,” she added. “You’ve got your family here to worry about.”

“No, Hermione,” he said firmly. “I want to come with you. You’re my family too.” 

* * *

After another fretful night of sleep, Hermione tiredly made her way down the stairs. Harry and Ginny were already up and, instead of finding them in their typical tangle of limbs, they were sitting side-by-side, talking in hushed tones and looking grim. 

“Good morning,” Hermione said cautiously, sitting down across from the couple. 

“Morning,” said Harry and Hermione could see that he had a copy of the  _ Prophet _ in front of him. 

“What is it?”, she asked as she took the paper to read. 

“They found Lucius, and the Malfoys’ trial is going to start next week,” Harry said. 

She didn’t need him to tell her, as the front of the Daily Prophet showed a large black and white picture of the worse-for-wear looking family, with a bold title which read  _ Prominent Death Eater Family to Stand Trial, Golden Trio Called to Testify on Behalf.  _

There was lots of speculation about how Harry, Ron, and herself could be connected to the Malfoys. The article talked about their school days, speculating that they were secretly friends with Draco. It went further to postulate that the Malfoys might have been double agents, trying to figure how the trio could be on the same side as them. A quick blurb made her heart stop, while there were no direct details, it mentioned that the trio had spent time at the Malfoy Manor, though instead of mentioning torture and a dramatic escape, it suggested that perhaps they had voluntarily gone to the manor to help the Malfoys plot to leave the death eaters. 

While the article was tremendously wrong about many things, it was correct about one thing. As soon as Hermione put down the paper, three owls flew in through the kitchen door, holding summons for the trio to testify on the behalf of the Malfoys. 

Hermione was only called to testify for Draco, whereas Harry was called for both Draco and Narcissa. Neither were asked to testify for Lucius, and it was doubtful that Ron’s letter asked him to do so. After all, what positives could they say about the family patriarch?

Ron entered as they were reading their summons, still in pyjamas and rubbing his dark-circle lined eyes. He quickly was able to read the mood of the room and asked what was wrong. Hermione handed him his letter and he sat next to her to read it. 

As he was reading the letter he let out a sarcastic “ha,” before closing it forcefully. “He must be out of his bloody mind,” he said with a crazed half-smile. “No fuckin’ way would we help him.”

Hermione and Harry just stared at Ron. 

“You’re kidding,” he said. “You’re going to testify?” he said with his voice rising. “After all he did? After he let-,” he stopped himself, instead going into a brooding silence. 

“Ron,” Harry started calmly. 

“No,” Ron shouted, standing from his chair in anger. “You hated him,” he said, now talking directly to Harry. “Our entire time at Hogwarts you tried to convince me how bad he was. And now that we know, you’re going to help him? No!” Ron was now fuming, his entire face lit up with red hot anger. 

“I’m not saying I like him,” said Harry, now standing to see eye-to-eye (or as close as he could get) with Ron. “But he did help us, he kept us from getting killed multiple times.”

“Oh so letting Hermione get tortured to near death doesn’t matter now?”

Hermione felt tears running down her face. She hated them arguing, and it was reminding her too much of the early days in the tent. But, even more, she hated the discussion of their experience at Malfoy Manor. For once, she was thankful that the rest of the burrows' inhabitants were cooped up in their rooms. 

“What could he have done?”, Hermione whispered, shocked that she was talking. “If he had stopped her, they would have killed him.” 

“Oh,” Ron said with a twisted face. “You're on  _ his  _ side,” he said almost spitting at the word  _ his.  _ “You’re going to testify too?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said defeatedly. She hated him being mad at her, especially for this. 

“I can’t believe you two,” he said. Then he turned and huffed up the stairs. 

“Prick,” Ginny said under her breath. 

“I won’t testify about Malfoy Manor, if you don’t want me to,” said Harry to Hermione. 

“No, you’re right, he did help us. You should tell the truth.” As the words came out of her mouth she felt bile rise in her throat. If Harry testified, there was no way that her torture would be a secret anymore. Everyone would know. And everyone would look at her with pity. She felt her heart drop at the thought. 

She knew she should also testify. Draco might be an arse, but he wasn’t nearly as bad as the other death eaters. He was forced into the role he had. Who’s to say that she wouldn’t be the same if born into his family? Of course, if she testified not only would she have to relive that horrible day, but it would also mean that she would have to postpone her Australia trip more. 


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione was tossing and turning, trying to calm her mind so that she could sleep. She couldn’t help but replay the day's events over and over in her mind. Ron’s yells of disappointment rang through her ears. It didn’t help that her body was aching again, though not nearly as bad as her last episode. She was in  _ just _ enough pain that she couldn’t sleep. 

Ginny had snuck out hours ago, something that was starting to become a regular occurrence. Hermione assumed that Ginny was with Harry, as some nights she was sure she could hear the pair whispering outside of her window. 

Ginny and Harry’s hot and heavy relationship only made Hermione feel lonelier. She hated how weak and disjointed she felt. She hated that Ron made her feel this way. In fact, she wasn’t sad- she was angry. Angry at Ron and how he made her feel. Angry at his unnecessary outburst. 

It was that anger that got her out of bed and all the way to his bedroom door. Only when she went to knock, did she question her actions. But that feeling of regret quickly subsided when he opened the door. His hair was ruffled and his pyjamas dishevelled; he had obviously been sleeping like a baby while she spent the night wide-awake from his actions. 

She pushed past him in a snit, only waiting until he closed the door to let out her tirade. 

“Been having a good sleep, have you?”, she asked sarcastically. Ron stared at her perplexed. “You’ve got nothing to worry you; nothing to keep you up at night. No reason to toss and turn over what you said.”

“Herm-,” Ron started, but was quickly cut off. 

“How dare you, Ronald Weasley? How dare you get mad at us for telling the truth. Do you think I want to go to the Ministry and relive it all? Of course not!”, she answered herself. “But it’s the right thing to do.”

“And speaking of the right things to do. What very much isn’t the right thing, is to talk about my torture. I’ve already told Ginny, but you didn’t know that. How could you blurt that out? You talk about wanting to do what’s right for me, and then you hurt me,” she said, her voice faltering. 

Ron looked as if he wanted to say something, but Hermione wasn’t done. 

“It’s not like I particularly like Malfoy. And if they ask about all of the vile things he’s done and said, I’ll tell them. But people are complicated. He’s done good things too.” 

“You know, Ronald, that’s the problem with you. You think of things in black or white; good or evil. But life isn’t like that. No one fits into a pretty little box. And no way am I going to allow someone to suffer in Azkaban because I didn’t like them; because I was afraid to tell the truth.” Hermione took a breath and realised she had said all she needed to- everything that had been ruminating in her brain since their fight earlier that day. 

“I’m sorry,” Ron said after spending some time hesitating to speak, as he wasn’t sure she was done ranting. “You’re right. Like always,” he added with a half-grin, trying to warm her up. 

“I shouldn’t have talked about Malfoy Manor, that wasn’t right of me. I am sorry. I also shouldn’t have shouted at you and Harry. But, I just can’t stick up for him. He’s a miserable fuck who deserves what’s coming to him,” he said grimly. “That doesn’t mean I won’t support you and Harry if you testify. I’ll be by your side,” he offered, “if you want me to.”

Hermione felt her anger melting away, but didn’t want to give in that easily. She looked at him; with his twisted undershirt, his too-short hand-me-down pyjama bottoms, his ruffled hair, and his face begging for forgiveness, and she just couldn’t stay mad at him. 

She closed the space between them with a slight run and squeezed him tight, an action that caused a groan of surprise from Ron. 

“I’m sorry for waking you,” she said. “And for yelling.”

“It’s okay Hermione,” he said, squeezing her in response. 

“I should go,” she said, though not entirely sure why she did. They were completely alone, which felt both exciting and terrifying. It could be hours until Harry and Ginny were back, and they could use the alone time. Still, her mouth spoke first, deciding on the sensible, Hermione-like option. How she wished she wasn’t sensible, sometimes. 

They broke from their hug and Hermione walked to her room. With each step, she regretted her decision to leave, but it was too late. However, once she plopped on her bed, sleep overtook her, as her mind was no longer absorbed with concern. 

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were met by reporters and onlookers as they were whisked away to the Minister’s office. The sereness of Kingsley’s office was in stark contrast to the bustling and clamouring in the rest of the ministry. They were led to his waiting room where oversized leather armchairs and a selection of teas and scones awaited them. 

The armchair engulfed Hermione as she sat, causing her to sink low to the ground with a “huff”. Seeing her difficulties, Ron and Harry decided to stand, and Ron preoccupied himself with the puddings. 

Soon, Kingsley’s secretary waved them in, and they were ushered into his office. 

Kingsley’s office felt much like the waiting room; calm and serene, but with a touch of grandeur. The wallpaper was a deep navy blue with painted golden stars shimmering by the light of his Tiffany-style lamps. He stood behind a large, embossed desk, which looked to have been hundreds of years old. In front of the desk sat three leather chairs, much like those in the waiting room. 

Kingsley warmly greeted the trio before urging them to sit. Hermione was glad that the chairs were harder than the ones in the waiting room, and she didn’t sink into it. 

“It looks like we have a lot to discuss,” Kingsley said in his deep, gravely voice. “So let’s get started. Firstly, the public has been buzzing for news of your past year’s escapades. I’m afraid if we wait any longer to tell the official story, they will have come up with one that does not show you three in the greatest light. Since we do not want to divulge information about Horcruxes or the deathly hallows, myself and a small trusted team has come up with an alternative.”

“We have gone back some time, looking through Riddle's last, and have decided that the Philosopher's stone may be a good substitute,” Kingsley said. “While it was said that Flamel only made one, we have thought it best to say that he secretly made more. Riddle and yourselves were both on the hunt for these, and only when you destroyed them all, could you truly defeat Riddle. Since the original makers of the stone are both deceased, there is no one to dispute these claims. We have also come up with possible holes in the story and have answers for them. Now, the last step is to have you three agree with it, since it will be your story.”

“I agree,” said Harry, and Ron and Hermione nodded their heads. Hermione didn’t love the idea of lying, however, she knew this was for the best. 

“Brilliant,” Kingsley said. “Moving on. Morale has been understandably low since the final battle. While not my decision, it has been decided that there should be a celebration of sorts for the one month anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. The main item on the agenda, and something I do fully support, is the awarding of the Order of Merlin, first-class, to the three of you.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other in shock. No one knew quite what to say, thankfully, Kingsley was not finished. 

“It will be a memorial ball and the invites will go out tomorrow. You will be expected to come, but do not have to give a speech, if you do not wish.”

Hermione felt a knot in her stomach. She wasn’t sure how to feel about this. The Order of Merlin was probably the most prestigious award a wizard could earn, and she felt entirely undeserving. Not only that, the idea of a ball, of a party, just felt wrong at a time like this. She couldn’t see herself being excited to dress up and dance (even with Ron). Looking over at Ron and Harry, she could see that they, too, were feeling mixed emotions. Ron’s face was twisted in a suppressed grin, and Harry seemed unnaturally preoccupied with a freckle on his hand. 

“I have seen that you have received your summons to testify at the Malfoy hearings,” Kingsley said, changing the subject. “While you are not required to testify, I want to let you three know, that the trial will be completely private. Since there is a risk of disclosing Riddles true intentions, it is a matter of national security. Therefore, your testimonies would be sealed and the proceedings will have the utmost security.”

Hermione felt a breath come out of her that she wasn’t aware she was holding. Her experience- her torture- wasn’t going to be public. She would have the power to tell, or not tell, whomever she wanted. Her mind was swirling with this new information distracting her from what Kingsley was saying until she heard her name. 

“Other than that, all I have left to discuss is Hermione's trip to Australia. Would you prefer that to be private?”, he asked Hermione, who shook her head in response. 

“Right,” Kingsley said. “At the moment international portkeys are difficult to get. Though I will have no trouble obtaining one for you. My main concern, however, is your safety. I know that the three of you are very strong wizards, and the offer to become Aurors still stands, however, there are still death eaters on the run and you three are especially vulnerable to attacks. So, I have arranged for an Auror to travel with you to Australia, and there you will be under the care of Australian Aurors. We have also located your parents, and they are under the surveillance of the Australian Magical Guard.”

“They’re alright?”, Hermione asked anxiously. 

“Yes, very well,” Kingsley responded. “They are living in Canberra and have started a private dental practice there.”

Hermione nodded her head, trying not to let tears of relief fall down her face. She felt as though she was floating.  _ Her parents were alright! _ They hadn’t been killed or tortured and her magic had held. She didn’t realise how much anxiety she was holding in, worrying about her parents. She felt as if she could float away. The news of an award and a party didn’t make her smile- but the knowledge that the only family she had left was okay, did. 

“The only information I need from you, is when you plan to leave and who is joining you”, Kingsley said. 

“Well,” Hermione replied, jolted from her happy reverie, “ I suppose I’ll have to wait until after the ball. So perhaps, June 4th?”, she inquired. 

“Yes, that will work”, Kingsley said. 

“And I’ll be joining her,” interjected Ron. 

“Great, I will get the accommodations started for you two,” Kingsley said, making a note in his diary. “One last thing. The first of the Auror training sessions begins August 10th, so if any of you are planning to take it, please let me know by the end of July.”

They all nodded their heads, though no one spoke up about joining. 

“Well, it has been a pleasure,” Kingsley said, standing up. “I look forward to awarding you three in a couple of weeks,” he said with a smile. 

With that, the trio shook Kingsley’s hand and made their ways back to the burrow. There was a lot to unpack from their meeting, though the two biggest topics were about testifying and the ball. Hermione and Harry decided they were officially going to testify and sent their owls in confirmation that evening. 

They received their invites to the ball the next day, and the entire Weasley family was invited. Not only were they going to award the trio (something that brought tears to Mr Weasley's eyes when he found out) but it would also be a memorial, honouring those who died throughout the war. 

Hermione wasn’t sure if all of the Weasley clan would come, but she was certain that Ginny would. Harry had formally asked Ginny to the ball, and she was ecstatic. She shared to Hermione how she had been too young to truly enjoy the Yule Ball, and how this time she was going with the person she wanted to. 

Ginny’s excitement made Hermione consider that the ball might actually be beneficial for morale. Even she was beginning to get excited. After Harry asked Ginny, Ron looked over at Hermione with a raised eyebrow- his way of asking her. She agreed with a smile before resting her head on his shoulder and becoming lost in his scent as the rest of the family discussed details of the ball. 


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione was awoken to Ginny trying to sneak back into their room. Normally, Hermione would just ignore it, but her eyes caught Ginny’s and she pulled a face- knowing she’d been caught. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?”, Ginny whispered as she changed into her nightclothes. 

“It’s alright,” Hermione responded, after subtly lifting the silencing charm she had placed around her bed. Ginny tripped while trying to put on her pyjamas, so Hermione sat up and turned on her night light to help Ginny see better. “You’re not a fan of sleep, I take it?”, Hermione asked cheekily.

“Ha ha,” Ginny said sarcastically. “Sometimes it’s nice to get some fresh air,” she said. 

“Fresh air?”, Hermione asked. “Is that what he’s called now?” Both girls broke out into giggles. Ginny finally tamed her pyjamas and sat on her bed. 

“I guess the jig is up,” Ginny said. Hermione smiled to herself, thinking of the possible jokes Ron would have made in reference to what was actually “up”. “Maybe,” Ginny said, “you  _ should _ be an Auror. Or the muggle version- what’s that called again? A defective?”

“A detective,” Hermione corrected. “And it’s not like you're all that good at sneaking around. I’m surprised that no one else has caught you.” 

Ginny raised her eyebrows in concern. “Are we that obvious?”, she asked. 

“Well,” Hermione said, “I haven’t spoken to Ron about it, though I’m pretty sure he’s aware. However, I doubt he wants to talk about it.”

“Hmm,” Ginny murmured. 

“But, really Gin,” Hermione said, “if you want some private time, just let me know. This is your room, after all.” 

“Thanks,” Ginny said. “Though I don’t think we could do what we are doing, in here.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow in confusion. She went to ask Ginny what she meant, but stopped herself, unsure if she wanted to know the details. However, Ginny saw her puzzlement and explained. 

“Whatever you think we’re doing,” Ginny said, “well, we’re probably doing that,” she said with a laugh. “But, that’s not  _ all _ that we’re doing.”

Hermione's confusion did not diminish, as she tried to put together Ginny’s riddle. 

“You see,” Ginny said with a sigh. “I’ve been thinking about next year. And as much as I love Luna, and Neville, and you, I’m really not sure I can go back to Hogwarts. The idea of being in those halls again, trying to act like everything’s fine. I don’t know if I have it in me.”

Hermione nodded her head in understanding. She had the same feelings when she thought about returning. Though, Ginny had experienced a lot worse at Hogwarts. Ginny spent the last year at Hogwarts undergoing horrible things, then she witnessed the death of her brother and numerous friends there. Hermione could imagine that anyone under her circumstances would feel more than hesitant to return.

“Mum would throw a fit if I don’t go back,” Gunny said. “Another child without a complete education; she’d go mad. So, I thought about how I could soften the blow. And, you see, quidditch is starting up again. Most teams have lost at least one player, and there are going to be tryouts in about a month. They don’t care if I have NEWTs. And I thought if I had a job offer, especially a prestigious one, then maybe she won’t be so disappointed.”

Hermione could also understand Ginny’s fear of disappointing her parents, as she had gone through the wringer with her own parents. As a child, Hermione was bright, and it was even discussed that she might go to public school. Then, of course, Hogwarts happened. After the initial fear, her parents were overjoyed and proud of her. Though that pride became hard to keep, as there was a barrier to what they could understand. Hermione couldn’t show her parents what she’d learned or bring them to Hogwarts. As other parents bragged about their children learning a third language, or their scores on their GCSE’s, Hermione’s parents were left behind, not able to brag, or even comprehend what she was learning. Even her high marks began to be less impressive, as her parents saw her courses as unnecessary and even silly. After all, how could one use herbology or divination in everyday life? As she neared graduation, they had pestered her to apply to University. She had looked into it, but would not have the relevant requirements to go. She would have to go to a compressive school before even considering higher education. This was just another addition to the string of disappointments Hermione caused her parents. They valued their education, and couldn’t imagine that their only child wouldn’t have the same one. They did name her after a Shakespeare character for a reason. Hermione tried to push these memories aside, as she did with most thoughts of her parents, and continued to listen to Ginny’s tale.

“So,” Ginny said, “Harry’s been practising with me every night to prepare me for the tryouts. No one else knows, so if I don’t get an offer, I can go to Hogwarts without anyone being the wiser. But if I do, then I’ll be a professional quidditch player. Sod the NEWTs.”

“I think that’s great,” Hermione said enthusiastically. “To be honest, I’m not so sure about returning to Hogwarts either.”

“Really?”, Ginny asked in a surprised tone. 

“Yeah, it’s like you said, I can’t quite imagine myself back there. Though I don’t have an alternative.”

“I’m sure you could do anything you wanted,” Ginny said. 

“Without NEWTs? I doubt it,” Hermione scoffed. 

“You’re Hermione Granger, defeater of Voldemort, part of the golden trio, member of the Order of Merlin,” Ginny said. “I’m pretty sure you could have any job you wanted.” 

Hermione shook her head but smiled at the compliments. “Thanks,” she said.

After some time in silence, when both women had curled under their blankets and the lights were turned off, Hermione spoke. “Hey Gin,” she whispered, hoping silently that the other woman would not hear her. 

“Yeah?”, Ginny asked, crushing Hermione’s hopes. 

“What’s it like?”, she asked even quieter, covering her face with her hands, even though they were in pitch darkness. 

“What?”, Ginny asked. “Oh,” she said, realising what Hermione was asking. 

“I mean I know what happens,” Hermione said. “I don’t need a- a sex talk. I’ve done plenty of reading on the subject. I just, I feel like…”

“You know I’m not that experienced, right?”, Ginny interjected. “Harry and I have only just- well our first time was after the battle. I had wanted him for so long; you know I love him. And, I don’t know, it was sort of perfect. We said we loved each other and it just happened. I mean, it wasn’t the best sex ever, but it was magical, if you excuse the term. It’s only gotten better the more we know each other, though I wouldn’t recommend doing it on the roof,” she added with a laugh. “Do you want to know something specific?”

“No,” Hermione said quickly. “It’s only, I feel like I’m avoiding it, you know. Anytime Ron and I get close, I panic.”

“Maybe you‘re not close enough, yet,” Ginny said. “I mean you’ve only just started dating.”

“I know, I’m not planning for it to happen too soon. I just want to be prepared. Sometimes I feel like I’m back at school; afraid to do anything in case it would jeopardize our relationship. I feel like a silly school girl. And it’s so stupid, I know it’s not a big deal, not really,” Hermione said with a sigh. “But, I can’t help wanting it to be perfect. ”

“I think that’s normal,” Ginny said. “Even when I wanted to jump Harry’s pants, I felt nervous. You need to give it more time. You’ll know, as cliche as it is, when it’s the right time.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said. 

“Of course,” Ginny said. “And, I know that he’s my brother, but whenever you want to talk about anything, I’m here.”

“Thank you, Ginny,” Hermione said, as she turned over and fell asleep surprisingly quickly. 

* * *

The next few days moved in a flash. Harry and Hermione were bombarded with paperwork to fill out before their testimonies. It felt like they were back at school; spending hours upon hours filling out forms and writing feet of paper. Eventually, they had finished their work, but it felt like Hermione had barely seen Ron in the meantime. She was especially anxious to see him, not only because of the talk she had with Ginny but also because of the surprise she had been working on. 

Finally, one evening, she saw her chance. 

She anxiously but determinedly walked up the stairs to Ron’s bedroom, clutching the surprise in her hands. She hoped that he would like it, and not be upset at her for altering his belongings. It’s funny, she thought, she had assumed that dating Ron would be  _ less _ stressful than being his friend. But, it was proving to be a very tumultuous experience, indeed. Not that she would ever want to go back. She tried hard to push her feelings down, but she was sure that she had fallen hard for him. The word  _ love _ had drifted through her mind more than once. Though she would never utter it, or at least not for some time. 

She knocked on Ron’s door to find him alone in his room. She expected this as she had waited to go to his room until Harry and Ginny did their almost-daily disappearing act together.

“Hey,” said Ron, hastily throwing his Quidditch magazine on the floor and making room for Hermione to sit next to him on his bed. 

“Hi,” she replied, careful for him not to see what she was holding as she sat next to him. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh,” he said, and he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes. The other night, when you told me that you worry about me when we aren’t together; that you fret when we’re asleep and you don’t know if I’m alright. Well- it got me thinking.”

“Surprise, surprise,” he teased.

Hermione felt a smile creep over her face and suddenly felt at ease. She felt silly for worrying in the first place. This was Ron, after all. Goofy, mischievous, lovely Ron. Of course he’d like what she planned. 

“Well I was thinking about the D.A. coins, and I was trying to figure out if I could alter them, or use similar magic to find a way for us to communicate. But, since the concern mostly lies when one of us is sleeping, it would need to be a way of communicating without words- somehow letting the other one know that we’re okay, even while we’re asleep. And if we used the coins, we would always have to hold them, and that wouldn’t work either.”

Ron nodded his head. He looked excited in anticipation of what Hermione had created, but his eyes were starting to glaze over with her long explanation. 

“Anyway,” she said, trying to get to the point. “I hope it’s alright,” she said as she showed Ron what she was holding, “I borrowed your watch.”

“That’s where it’s been!”, he exclaimed, happily taking the watch from her. 

“Sorry,” she said. 

“No, it’s okay. Not like there’s much reason to tell time right now. No classes to be late for,” he joked. “What did you do to it?”, he asked with enthusiasm. 

“Well,” she started, feeling her nerves rise again. “If you’re wearing that, and I’m wearing this,” she said pointing to the silver bangle she had around her wrist, “then we can feel each other's heartbeats. I thought it would be a good way for us to know that the other one is alright, without communicating.”

“Brilliant,” he said as he put on his watch. As he fit it around his wrist, Hermione began to feel a soft pulsing in her bracelet. It was subtle, but she could tell that it wasn’t her own heartbeat. She was worried that it would be too strong or become annoying, but all she felt was comfort and a stronger connection to Ron. 

Ron looked at her with a look of such admiration and something she couldn’t put her finger on. Whatever it was, it was so strong that she had to look away. 

“We can also communicate like with the coins,” she said, leaning over to touch Ron’s watch. “Just press the crown twice.” She demonstrated and the normal watch face was changed to a screen with letters. “You can use your wand to say what you want to send to me, or you can type it.”

“Type?”, Ron asked. 

“It’s a muggle term. Just press on the letter you want and it will display up here,” she said pointing to the top of the screen. While she didn’t have her own cellular phone, she had seen them used similarly and used it as a starting point. “When you’ve written what you want, press the crown again, and it will show on my bracelet.” 

Ron looked at her in awe but quickly huddled away, eager to try it out for himself, but not for Hermione to see. After a couple of  _ fucks  _ and  _ buggers _ , she saw words appear on her bangle. 

_ youre amazing _

She couldn’t help but grin a grin that was almost wider than her face. She showed it to Ron, who was still impressed. “Your turn,” he said. 

Hermione pointed her wand towards her bracelet. Since it didn’t have a face, she could only write using her wand. She was temporary at a loss of what to write. She began to write  _ I,  _ but swiftly changed her mind. Instead, she wrote  _ as are you.  _

Ron almost yelped in excitement as the face of his watch lit up with her words. “This is bloody fantastic,” he said. 

Somehow, her smile got bigger. Though, it was soon diminished as Ron took her head in his hands and planted a kiss on her. 

It felt like such a long time since they had last kissed like this, and Hermione met his lips with passion. She was quickly dragged onto his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist as their kisses turned into snogging. His hands roamed up and down her back with no discernable path, still, goose pimples covered her skin wherever he touched. 

She could feel heat rising- and lowering. Just as she was about to take a break to breathe, Ron’s door opened and Harry walked in. 

“Argh,” Harry shouted in disgust as he covered his eyes and turned around. 

“Maybe you should knock, mate,” Ron rebutted.

Harry nodded his head through his hands and went to leave, saying it was time for dinner. 

Hermione reluctantly peeled herself from Ron’s body and stood. She went to the mirror and tried to fix her unruly hair and skewed clothing. When she had done her best at looking presentable, she turned back at Ron. A pillow had replaced her on his lap, and his full-face blush looked as though it was getting darker, not lighter. 

“I’ll be down in a minute,” he said, with a slight croak. 

Hermione nodded her head and tried not to smile. She didn’t realise how good it would feel to know that she had  _ that _ kind of power over him and his body. As she turned the doorknob to leave, he stopped her.

“‘Mione,” he said, causing her to turn around. “I meant what I said; you’re amazing.”

She left his room with the familiar too-wide grin on her face, practically skipping down the stairs. 


	11. Chapter 11

The lowest level of the Ministry of Magic was just how Hermione remembered; dismal, dark, and cold. She was sat in the tiny corridor between the courtrooms. Harry was pushing an hour of testifying, and Hermione was on edge waiting for him to be done.

As Kingsley had promised, the trials were private-no one knew that they were there today. There were no reporters to avoid or autographs to give. Instead, they were hastily taken to the ninth floor of the Ministry and down a desolate staircase to the tenth.

Today, Draco Malfoy was on trial, and when it was done, his mothers would be next. Hermione hoped desperately that today would be the only day she had to testify. She was uneasy about reliving her past. It was hard enough to do with those she loved and seemed next to impossible to do in front of strangers.

Though there was one thing that was keeping her anxiety at bay-Ron was with her. While he couldn't come into the courtroom, he could stay with her while she waited. They didn't have much to say to each other, especially since she was worried that if she tried to talk only sobs would come out.

As soon as they sat, Ron put his arm around her, and he hadn't moved his arm since. She cuddled into his chest, feeling calmed by his heartbeat that she could hear from his chest in tune with his heartbeat pulsing on her wrist. Her invention had been working perfectly.

Ron made sure to "message" her every night. The first night was with a simple _goodnight._ After that night, however, they spent hours talking to each other about nothing of importance. When they were apart (which was becoming a rarity recently) they would secretly message each other. Ron had begun trying to message her at mealtimes. Though, often his spelling was off, as he was trying to message her with his hands under the table. She knew that the others figured out something was up, as Ron spent more time with his hands under the table instead of eating and Hermione would often guffaw out of nowhere, responding to Ron's quips about the conversations being had or the excessive raisins in the pudding.

She had never felt so close and reliant on someone else in her life. It was beginning to scare her how much she _did_ rely on him. However, that fear was always abbreviated when she was with him.

Hermione kept her head rested on his chest, trying to breathe deeply and match her racing heartbeat to his steady one. They sat in comfortable silence. But that was soon broken as Harry entered the corridor. He looked more tired and dishevelled than he had when he went in. Hermione went to ask him how it went, but was shuffled away and into the courtroom before she could.

The room felt entirely too big. The last time she was here, it was filled with people. There had been rows and rows of Wizengamot members including Umbridge (who, thankfully, had been sent to spend the rest of her years in Azkaban) and a hurdle of defenceless muggle-borns waiting to hear their fates.

Now, there were only a few people in the room. There was the Chief Witches assistant, who showed her to her seat. Next to her was the Chief Witch, the opposing counsel, and the Malfoy's counsel, whom Hermione had met previously when she was prepared to take the stand. And finally, across from her, was Draco Malfoy.

He looked smaller than she remembered. The chair he sat in seemed to overwhelm his tiny frame, though thankfully, he was not chained to it as his predecessors had been. His face was gaunt and sucked in, with deep purple rings under his eyes. His clothing engulfed his bony figure, very different from how Hermione knew him to look; he used to be so polished and impeccably dressed. Now, he looked bedraggled, to the point that it was hard not to pity him.

She made sure to not look him in the eyes while the Chief Witch swore her in. Then, her testimony began.

The opposing counsel was the first to question her. Time moved in a blur as she recounted her early experiences with Draco to the near-empty court. He wanted to know of all of her experiences with Draco in order to "show his character". Though, of course, nothing he asked about showed Draco in a good light.

She wasn't sure how the counsel had learned so much about their time at Hogwarts. He grilled her on their early encounters, refusing to say the word that Draco often called her, and instead asking her to say it (and gasping dramatically when she did). He knew about her slapping Draco, Draco hitting her with the densaugeo spell in fourth year, his numerous threats, and his attempts to kill Dumbledore.

By the time they got to her time at Malfoy Manor, she was exhausted. He went into grim detail of her torture, even going as far as making her show her _mudblood_ scar (which did cause audible gasps from those around her). She tried to say how Draco had lied about Harry being there, which is what led to their escape, but the opposing counsel ignored her, instead fixating on the fact the Draco did not stop her torture and even stayed to watch.

To her surprise, after the brutal questioning about the Manor, the opposing counsel stopped, saying he had asked all he needed to. Hermione expected that she would have to testify with Draco's counsel next, but the Chief Witch stopped it, saying they would convene again tomorrow, as it was getting late. With that, she was escorted out of the room.

Harry had been waiting for her along with Ron, and the three of them headed back to the burrow in silence. Though, as soon as she made it through the front door, she collapsed into Ron's arms. He managed to lead her into Ginny's room, offering calm supporting words in between her sobs.

She held onto him for a long time, letting all of her stress and fears out with each sob. Soon, it had grown dark, and Hermione knew it wouldn't be long before Ginny would come to bed. She tried to steady her breathing and wiped her tears on a handkerchief Ron provided. As she had expected, as soon as she wiped her face, Ginny knocked on the door. Ron kissed Hermione on her forehead before motioning to his watch with a wink and saying goodnight.

After a comforting hug from Ginny, the young women got ready for bed in silence. As soon as she switched her light off, Hermione checked her bangle. Ron was sending her message after message about how strong and brave she was. While she didn't feel like either of those things, his encouraging words did bring a smile to her face. Their conversation quickly moved to reminiscing and only after two hours of talking about how boring Professor Binn's class had been (she never would have admitted it before, but Ron and Harry were right about his droning lectures) did they finally say goodnight.

It felt as though the intensity of Hermione's nightmares had doubled. Every time she fell asleep, she was bombarded with images from the Manor. The pain caused by Bellatrix in her dreams radiated through her even as she awoke. After her third time waking from a nightmare, the pain got so bad that she ended up in the loo again, sick. This time, however, she was not alone. As soon as she felt able to, she went to head back to Ginny's but was blocked when she opened the bathroom door.

George was waiting for the loo and looked at her with concern.

"You alright?", he asked.

She nodded her head and quickly went up the stairs, hoping that he was none the wiser to her problems.

* * *

The next day went by faster than the day before, partially because they were being questioned by Malfoy's counsel, and there were much less good things to say about him than bad. His counsel was nicer, trying to put a positive spin on her encounters with Draco. Still, when she left, she was utterly exhausted, though grateful that she was done.

She spent most of the rest of the day in bed, with Ron bringing her tea and books to read. He sat with her as she read, bringing her peace by just being there. Eventually, she was sure he must be bored, so she started a new book, this time reading to him.

She had another nightmare and pain-fueled night. When she awoke she was sure she couldn't have looked much better than Malfoy had. She was exhausted. This wasn't new to her, as most of her nights were riddled with nightmares. However, this time her exhaustion came from a different place. Testifying had knocked whatever energy she had left out of her. Though, she breathed easier knowing it was over.

She dragged herself to the bottom floor of the burrow and found Harry and Ginny eating their breakfast. She was happy to see them, as it was getting harder and harder to spend quality time with them, and even harder to get one of them alone. Hermione supposed they were making up for their year apart. After chatting with the pair for some time over tea, she began to realise how much she missed them-especially Harry, whom she barely saw aside from mealtimes.

They talked about the ball, and Ginny mentioned that Fleur was going to bring some dresses over for the women to try. Hermione was unaware of this, and was slightly concerned, knowing that Fleur's style, while always polished and beautiful, was a much better fit for a Veela, than someone who looked like her. Though she was glad the dresses were sorted out, if she was left to her own devices, she was sure she'd look drab.

She tried to talk to Harry about the ball, but he was unenthusiastic-barely answering her questions with more than a grunt. She decided to stop pestering him, as he seemed dejected and down at any mention of the party. In fact, he seemed that way most of the time.

Really, everyone was in poor spirits. No one was left unscathed from the funerals and the past year. Talk of the ball was the only time people would light up, and those people were mainly made up of Ginny. She knew she should talk to Harry, to check on him. But, she never found the right time. She felt like she was intruding whenever she tried. As much as she hated it, it seemed like their relationship had changed.

Ron soon joined them and tried his best to keep up with the conversations while scarfing down his breakfast. The moment they were done eating, Harry and Ginny excused themselves and not-so-subtly sneaked up to Ginny's room together.

"I have a question for you," Ron said while finishing the last of the sausages. Hermione inquired as to what he wanted to ask, and he continued. "Well," he said, "I was thinking about the ball." _Apparently Ginny wasn't the only one._ "And I realised that that would technically be our first date."

"Yes," Hermione said. "I suppose so."

"I don't think that's right," Ron said, causing Hermione's eyebrow to raise. "I mean, I don't think that should be our _first_ date," he clarified. "We should have a proper one first, not one with paparazzi and awards and stuff."

"Are you asking me on a date, Ron Weasley?", she flirted.

"Yes I am," he said with a prideful smile, seeming to puff his chest out a bit when he did.

"Well the ball's a few days away, we would have to-," she started.

"Tomorrow", he interrupted, "at noon."

"Alright," she said with a smile, choosing to ignore him interrupting her. "What should we do?"

"It's a surprise," he said.

"Oh, really?", she questioned.

"You're not the only one who can do surprises," he joked. "Only don't expect too much, since we can't leave the burrow's grounds without a chaperone."

"Right," she said. The chaperone (typically an Auror) rule was instated when they moved into the burrow. Evidently, the golden trio wasn't skilled enough to be trusted on their own, at least not until all of the death eaters had been rounded up.

"Well, I'm still looking forward to it", she smiled. She tried all day to goad information out of him but to no avail.

After dinner, Fleur arrived with what seemed to be way too many dresses for one person to own. Most were in garment bags, and the young women helped Fleur haul them into Ginny's room.

Fleur set up a make-shift clothing rack with a closet rod she had somehow managed to carry along with the dresses. As she began unzipping the bags, Hermione couldn't help but feel concerned. She was right-Fleurs dresses were not meant to be worn by someone like her, they were far too revealing. How was she to cover up her scars in a dress that seemed to be made of two large handkerchiefs?

Ginny immediately rushed to the choices and began picking through the ones she wanted. But Hermione held back.

"Do you have any dresses that are a bit more…" Hermione paused, trying to think of the right word, "modest?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, "Hermione won't be happy until she looks like a nun," she joked.

"Vell," Fluer said, "Zee's are old dresses, I can alter zhem however you vould like."

"Really?", Ginny asked, with her head barely visible through the throng of dresses.

"Yes," Fleur said. "I am very adept at altering spells. I can change the lengths, colours, sleeves; vhatever you vould like.

"Thank you," Hermione said and cautiously joined Ginny to sort through the dresses. Hermione ended up with two to try on, while Ginny found six. Hermione let Ginny be the first to try her dresses.

Most of Fleur's dresses were light in colour and Fleur explained that she was a "vinter"-apparently Ginny was a spring and Hermione was an autumn. Hermione had no idea what Fleur was on about, but she seemed to know what she was doing. When she changed the dress Ginny was in from a pastel pink to a deep emerald the transformation was stunning. Suddenly, Ginny seemed to glow, the dress accentuating her fiery hair and fair skin.

It was official; Ginny had found her dress (and only on the third try). The newly-green dress was made of silk and draped across her body. It was simple with thin straps holding up a square neckline. But the pièce de résistance was the back, or the lack thereof. The back fell much lower than Hermione would be comfortable with and finished in a scowl across Ginny's lower back. However, Ginny did have the physique for it, and it showed off the many muscles she had gained from quidditch.

Hermione was next, and she tried on her two choices to a tepid response. Fleur rummaged through her clothes and finally found one for Hermione to try. Hermione reluctantly tried it on, only because of Ginny's pleading, as it was not something she would choose.

Much like Ginny's dress, it had a low back, though thankfully not quite as low, and was made of satin. The front had a high boat neck (the only part of the dress Hermione liked) and was a pastel yellow. Trying it on, Hermione was sure it was a dud like the others she had tried on, but Fleur and Ginny disagreed. Fleur had Hermione turn away from the mirror (so she could have a dramatic reveal) and began altering it.

She added sleeves, tightened some parts, and loosened others. Finally, she made Hermione close her eyes as she changed the colour. Both Ginny and Fleur turned Hermione around and had her open her eyes, presenting her as if she was a golden goose on Christmas.

Hermione tilted her head while analysing it. It _did_ look better than before. The sleeves added a bit of elegance to the dress and thankfully fully covered her scar. The dress fit her impeccably, and even though she didn't love how her body looked right now, she couldn't help but agree that it was flattering. Though, the colour change into a deep crimson is what made the difference. As with Ginny, she seemed to pop in the colour. Plus, it was almost Gryffindor red (just a shade bit darker) which made her like it even more.

There were just two problems with the dress.

"It's a bit low in the back, isn't it?", she asked.

"Nonsense," Ginny scolded. "Anyway, you'll have your robe to cover it."

Fleur nodded and brought out an embossed velvet witches robe, which she enchanted to be the same colour as Hermione's dress. It was fancier and more delicate than anything Hermione had ever worn. Though Fleur assured her it was okay to borrow and pointed out that it's not every day that a witch receives the Order of Merlin.

With the robe, Hermione felt pretty; prettier than she ever had felt before. She agreed that it was perfect, but there was one last thing that was missing.

"Is there a way to get it to cover my neck?", she asked.

Fleur scoffed at the remark. "I vill not be changing that dress to be a col roulé-a neck of the turtle. Can't you use ze cream?"

Hermione shook her head. She had tried to use blemish and scar covering cream on her scars. While they worked on her burns and other scars, they did nothing to cover the scars Bellatrix gave her.

"What about this?", Ginny asked, while rooting around in her wardrobe. She pulled out a thin piece of fabric, which Hermione initially took to be a ribbon, but was instead a choker necklace.

Ginny put it around Hermione's neck and Hermione inspected her appearance. While the necklace didn't cover her entire scar, it covered most of it, making it so that it was impossible to decipher that it was actually a scar. Fleur changed the colour of the choker to match her dress, and Ginny squealed-Hermione had found her dress.


	12. First Date Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Happy November! I hope everyone had a fun and safe Halloween. I decided to do a double post this week since this chapter is a two-parter. I'll probably post the second part mid-next week.
> 
> ~Dot

Hermione woke up earlier than she typically did, as her nerves and excitement about the upcoming day made it hard for her to sleep in. Today was her first date with Ron. She found it hard to quell her nervousness, especially because she had no idea what he had planned. Surprises were not her favourite thing. Though she could hear Ron's voice echoing in her head reminding her that _she,_ in fact, had started it by surprising him with the enchanted watch.

She decided to get dressed for the day, even though no one else would be awake for some time. Opening her wardrobe, she was unsure of what to wear; he hadn't given her even the slightest clue as to what he planned. She flipped through her clothes over and over again. She hated that she was spending so much time agonising over clothing; it was so unlike her.

It was taking her so much time to decide that Ginny had woken up while she was still choosing. Ginny walked over to Hermione, curious as to what she could be doing, right as Hermione resigned her efforts and grabbed a simple blouse.

Ginny seemed to know what Hermione was up to, as she began rifling through her clothes. "You should wear this," Ginny said, pulling out a white sundress that Hermione was sure she had never worn before. A dress that her mom had bought for her over the summer holidays years ago, which Hermione kept at the bottom of her wardrobe-jeans and a simple top we're more her style.

"Really?", Hermione questioned.

"If a date's not a good time to dress up, then when is?", Ginny retorted. "Plus, then you can show off your great legs."

Hermione shook her head at the compliment but took the dress. Ginny was right, she did look good in the outfit. She added a purple jumper to the look to cover her arms and put half of her hair up, leaving just enough to cover the scar on her neck. She grabbed some matching flats (a dress was fancy enough, she didn't need to add heels). And, just as she was about to leave, she reached down to the bottom of her wardrobe and put on a dab of lip gloss.

She was surprised not to see Ron at breakfast. In fact, Ron was missing for most of the morning. For a moment, she was worried that he had ditched her. Then she remembered that their plans weren't until lunch. Still, her mind wouldn't stop thinking of what he could be doing, and she missed him. She hated how much she missed him, even over such a short period of time. She tried desperately to distract herself. When her normal books wouldn't cut it, she decided to become a third wheel and spend time with Harry and Ginny.

When the conversation moved to quidditch, (as it always seemed to) they were interrupted by Ron entering through the fireplace. His abrupt entrance made Hermione jump and Harry go straight for his wand. Though, once they saw it was him, and verified his identity, they relaxed.

"Where have you been?", Hermione asked more sternly than she meant.

Ron didn't answer her. Instead, he walked past her, a basket in his hands and a mischievous grin on his face. She looked to her friends, who seemed much less interested in Ron's plans than she was. So, she got up and followed him.

Ron was in the kitchen putting on a pot of tea.

"What are you doing?", Hermione said in a sing-song voice, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"I see you've forgotten the meaning of a surprise", Ron said with a smile.

"Yes, well, it's almost noon, which I believe means that you have to reveal your surprise," Hermione said. "That is, if you actually _have_ a surprise," she goated.

"Fine," he said with an exaggeratedly fake sigh. "I thought we could go on a picnic." He lifted the basket he had with him on to the kitchen counter. "I made some food."

"You _cooked_?", Hermione said in awe.

Ron wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Well, I made some sandwiches."

"Ahh," Hermione said. "Is that where you've been all day?"

"Yeah, I've been at Bill and Fleur's. Gotta keep everything a surprise, don't I?"

"Clever," Hermione said earnestly.

"Just don't complain that everything's a bit french," Ron joked. He put the tea he made into his basket. "You ready to go?", he asked.

"Go?", she asked. "I thought we couldn't leave the burrow."

"It might not look like it, but the burrows wards stretch pretty far", he said before offering her his hand. She took it and he led her outside. "It's a fairly long walk," he said, stopping at the shed on which the family's brooms were hanging. "We could fly."

"I don't mind walking," she said a bit too assertively. She had had enough flying for one lifetime.

"Alright," he said before walking again. He led her past the burrow and into the copse of trees behind the property.

They walked for a while in comfortable silence, hand in hand. She was thankful that she decided to wear flats as the walk took longer than she expected. As a matter of fact, she began to feel concerned as to how far they were in the woods, but Ron didn't seem worried in the least. He led her with conviction, turning here and there until they finally landed at a clearing.

Just beyond the clearing was a small lake, one that Hermione had no idea existed. The water glistened in the sunlight radiating golden light over the surrounding landscape.

"It's beautiful," she exclaimed. Ron beamed and began to unpack the basket he brought. He laid down a large quilt and then began to unpack the food, not letting Hermione help, no matter how much she insisted. Finally, he had unpacked everything and they sat down, side-by-side.

"Tea?", he asked. She nodded her head and he poured her a cup and added two sugars-just how she liked. Then he unwrapped the sandwiches. They were on croissants and contained brie cheese, which Ron admitted he had never tried. Hermione assured him it was delicious, and they began to eat. At first, they ate in silence, but that was quickly abated.

They talked about the ball, as it was only a couple of days away. Ron tried to get Hermione to tell him about her dress, though she refused, stating that that was _her_ surprise. He was quite persistent and Hermione was amused at how interested he was in her clothing. He never seemed to be, before.

Then the conversation moved to how Ron had found the lake. He explained that it was a place that the twins often escaped to. One day, he followed them and found this spot. Annoyed at their pestering little brother, they convinced him that the trees were full of spiders and got him to run into the water in fear. As it was the middle of winter, he was soon freezing. The twins ran off, and he was left to try and find his way home, sopping wet. He couldn't find his way home, and eventually his dad found him, huddling in a homemade cover of leaves and twigs. He made the shelter because he assumed that he would never find his way home and would instead have to live in the woods forever. Hermione thought it was a terrible tale, but Ron laughed throughout his explanation. "Brothers," he explained with a shrug.

He told her that he would come to the lake after the twins had gone away to school. It became a place of solace, a place to get away from his annoying baby sister. He would sometimes go for a swim, if it was warm enough, or just watch the clouds go by. He hadn't been to the lake for some time, but when he began planning their date, he remembered it, thinking it was a great place for a picnic.

They ate through the sandwiches, mushy peas, and sponge cake that Fleur had graciously given Ron for his "big date". Hermione found herself laughing much louder than she normally would. The nerves from this being their first date were quickly dissolved, instead replaced with an inner peace in which she hadn't felt in a long time. He was Ron, her Ron, and she loved spending time with him. It felt comfortable, familiar.

They stayed on the quilt for a while after finishing eating, simply enjoying each other's company by talking and reminiscing. It was still light out, and the sun beamed on Hermione, creating warmth in spite of the summer breeze. She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the sun and the feelings of elation inside her. However, when she opened her eyes Ron was gone. She saw him on his way down the small hill they were on, headed towards the lake.

"What are you doing?", she asked incredulously as he flipped off his shoes and stepped into the clear water.

"It's not too cold," he said, not quite answering her question.

She reluctantly got up from her warm spot and followed him to the edge of the lake. She slipped off her shoes, and as soon as she stepped into the water she shrieked. "It's freezing," she exclaimed.

Ron laughed and headed deeper into the lake, until his shorts were only an inch from the water. She hesitantly walked further into the water too, though stopped short of him, as her dress was about to her wet.

Ron turned to her and looked her up and down. "You wouldn't want to get your fancy dress wet, would you?", he said playfully before motioning for her to join him.

She felt a hot flush creep up her face, though she was still smiling. Without a second thought, she walked the few steps back towards the shore and hastily unbuttoned her sweater and took off her dress before plunging her entire body into the freezing water. _At least she had worn matching knickers_ , she thought.

She quickly passed Ron, with her head just above the water. "Your clothes are quite nice too," she said. Ron smiled, a blush also spreading across his face. He took off his shirt and threw it next to Hermione's dress. When he reached for his belt buckle Hermione dipped her head back and plunged under the water to get her hair wet and to avoid looking at him as he stripped down to his pants.

He caught up to her, his chest well above the water, unlike Hermione, who was almost fully submerged. "You're too tall," she joked.

Instead of answering her, he swam deeper into the water so that his body was now covered by the lake. She swam to him but found that she could not touch the bottom with her feet. Instead, she had to tread water to stay afloat.

"You're too short," he laughed. Faking annoyance, Hermione huffed dramatically and splashed him with the water. He splashed her back, and soon they were in a full-fledged water war. Hermione began to struggle to stay afloat and Ron gently offered her his hand to steady her, essentially ending the fight. She took his hand and he pulled her closer.

Their bodies were now almost touching, only a thin layer of water separating them. Hermione put her free hand on his shoulder, closing the gap. Ron dropped his hand holding hers and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her even closer, if that was even possible.

Hermione was still treading her feet, and Ron reached down and took her thigh and placed it around his waist. She brought her other leg to his waist, now straddling him. They looked at each other for a moment, suddenly aware of their predicament; they were barely clothed and wrapped around each other in a way they had never been before.

Ron's eyes seemed darker, staring at her with determination and something she couldn't quite place. Was it hunger? Before she could ponder it anymore, Ron kissed her, moving his hand up her body and to her hair as he did.

The kiss was somewhat awkward, with Hermione feeling Ron's legs start to shake from holding her up and struggling to stay upright, but it was still full of passion. Ron couldn't let go of her without the risk of her floating away, just as she couldn't unlock her legs for the same reason. They were stuck together, like two puzzle pieces. Puzzle pieces which were no longer suffering from the coldness of the water- they were producing plenty of heat themselves.

Their kissing progressed, at least as much as it could, to the point that their tongues were exploring each other's mouths. Ron bit down on her lip, just a bit too hard, causing an unintentional "ow", from Hermione.

"I'm sorry," Ron said. Hermione shook her head- she didn't care, she just wanted the snogging to start again. Ron smiled, probably due to how desperate Hermione looked. His smile quickly changed to an expression that Hermione was quite used to; one of mischief.

He kissed her hard again before suddenly pulling the two of them under the water.

"Ronald!", Hermione yelled mock-angrily as she burst through the surface of the water. Ron chuckled, apparently pleased with himself. Whatever he had intended by his antics, she did not know. But it was successful at one thing- the moment they had before was gone. The heat had left Hermione's body, and she now began to shiver in the cold.

Ron must have noticed this, as he suggested that they go back to shore, promising of towels that he could magically heat up. Hermione agreed and they began their swim back to shore, though Hermione stopped as soon as her feet touched the bottom of the lake. She remembered her state of undress. And, even though they were matching, her knickers were a white cotton, something that would be transparent when wet.

Ron however, did not seem to share her concern, as he swam to shore and headed for the basket he had packed. Hermione tried desperately not to stare at his half-naked figure draped in black pants which stuck to every part they touched.

She slowly made her way back, so that when she did reach the shore, Ron was there with her towel. She hastily took it from him, noticing him also struggling not to look her over.

The towel was warm and toasty, just as promised, and she relished the heat on her goose-pimple covered skin. They walked back to the picnic together and she realised something. He had packed towels- them swimming, nearly starkers, was part of his plan.

Cheeky bastard.


	13. First Date- Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Thought I'd post this for all of us who are high-key stressed today. Please enjoy this smutty-smut smut chapter as a way to unwind. 
> 
> ~Dot

Still wrapped in his towel, Ron laid down on the quilt, facing the sky. Hermione joined him and stared up to the cloudy sky.

"See anything interesting?", she asked, remembering that he used to cloud gaze when he was younger.

"See that one," Ron said pointing to a fluffy cloud. "That's a marshmallow. And that one-," he took her hand and guided it to point to another cloud, "that one is candy floss."

Hermione laughed at his uncreative and food-related choices. "Still hungry?", she teased. He laughed and dropped her hand. She turned over to face him, and he did the same. They laid there for some time staring into each other's eyes. She never had appreciated how beautiful his blue eyes were. They were the shade of deep ocean water, with flecks of green and sapphire.

She was enjoying the exploration of his face; the freckles that dotted his cheeks, the blond stubble that was just starting to poke out around his chin, his cherry coloured lips- when he reached out and touched her face. They kept their eye contact as he moved his hand down her face and her neck to her towel-covered waist.

Unburdened by their near-nakedness, Hermione leaned forward and kissed Ron, pulling their bodies closer together. Whatever had made Ron decide to stop kissing earlier, had clearly vanished, as he met her kiss fiercely. He gently nudged her body back, until he was on top of her.

Her towel was pushed back too, and now her body was uncovered. He leaned down, as far as he could, so that their bodies were touching. His damp chest met hers as he began to plant wet kisses down her neck. She moaned softly as he began sucking on her pulse point, and leaned her head back to give him better access. Suddenly, however, she became aware of how intimate they were.

"Ron," she said breathily. He stopped his kissing and pushed himself up so that he was face-to-face with her. "We should probably put some wards up," she said, "so that we can't be seen if someone finds us."

He smiled back at her. "Already done," he said. "I put up invisibility wards this morning."

She stared at him for a moment, taking in what he said, and shook her head. "Okay," she said with a laugh.

"What is it?" he asked at her peculiar reaction.

"Well," she said with a blush. "First you packed towels, then you put up invisibility wards. It seems to me, Ronald Weasley, that you were planning to get me in my knickers."

Ron guffawed at her answer and they both broke out into nervous giggles. "Not planned, per se," he said, "maybe hoped, wished, wanted- but not planned."

She lifted her face to his and kissed his smiling face. He then resumed his neck-kissing operation.

Though, he paused at her shoulder, looking as if he was thinking hard about something, before he sat back on his knees.

His face read concern, and Hermione quickly sat up as well, partially because of his concerned look, and partially because she was now exposed without his body on hers.

"Hermione," he said, looking her straight in her eyes. "You know that I-," he paused, trying to find the right words. "I never want to push you into anything. You know I'm a randy git," he said with a chuckle, "but, I don't want to go too fast for you."

Hermione felt her heart swell. She knew, in her heart of hearts, that he would never push her into anything. But him saying it, and stopping their snogging just to tell her, was incredibly thoughtful. She smiled and nodded her head, before reaching her arms around his shoulder and passionately kissing him. They stayed sitting as their kissing progressed. His hand covered the expanse of her back, though he was very careful not to touch her bra.

She assumed he was waiting for her to make the next move. So, for the second time that day, she acted without thinking. She reached back behind her and undid her bra and carelessly tossed it aside. He froze, his eyes wide and staring at her face. Momentarily, she worried she had done the wrong thing, but her mind was quickly changed as he kissed her lips, hard, pushing her back to a lying position.

His hands moved up and down her side, though still avoiding her newly undressed parts. She grabbed his hand and led it to her breast, causing him to moan a small "fuck" when she did. His hand covered her breast and his other one worked its way up, so that both of his hands were on her.

"Fuck," he said again, before moving his hands down and sitting back again. He let his eyes move to her breasts. She could feel his gaze on her and shut her eyes. She instantly felt vulnerable, realizing that she was almost completely exposed, in more ways than one. _What if he didn't like how she looked_? Her breasts were nothing to write home about. In fact, Ginny had once joked that the two of them were a part of the _itty bitty titty committee_. On top of that, she was covered in scars and still looked malnourished- her ribs plainly visible as she sucked a nervous breath in.

With her eyes closed, she didn't notice that he had leaned back on top of her. "You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered into her ear. She sighed at shaky breath as his mouth found hers and his hands found their spot in her breasts again- this time moving and tweaking, exploring her. Much to her delight.

He slowly followed his path down her neck, though this time going past her shoulder. When his tongue found her nipple, she couldn't help but moan. She no longer felt nervous or vulnerable, now all she could feel was Ron's mouth on her and the pleasure he created.

Ron experimented with his tongue, going from one breast to the other, as she pushed her hands through his hair. His hands moved down her and cupped her arse, pushing her closer to him. She could feel that he was as turned on as she was. His hands moved from her arse to the front of her thighs. He stopped just short of her knickers and sucked a breath in, moving his mouth away from her body. He brought his face to hers but didn't kiss her. Instead, he glanced at her with a questioning look.

She knew what he was asking and she nodded her head. He pressed his lips on hers and simultaneously pulled her knickers down. She lifted her bum to help him and kicked them all the way off.

They both gasped at the same time, causing them to break out into nervous giggles, once again. Ron kissed her again, and moved his hands back to the spot they had been, resting on her thighs. Seeming to find his courage, he moved one hand to prop himself up, and the other found her centre.

She took a shaky breath as he explored her with his hands. His fingers found the right spot, causing her to tilt her head back with a moan. He began circling his thumb around his new discovery and she shut her eyes, lost in desire.

The courage he found suddenly doubled, and, as he continued with his thumb, he began to kiss down her body. He stopped just above his hand and began kissing down her thigh. Hermione couldn't help the soft moans that came from her. She unthinkingly spread her legs even more open. Ron took this as an okay and moved his hand to her thigh and his mouth to her bundle of nerves.

She gasped at the feeling. It was nothing like anything she had ever experienced. Sure, she had pleasured herself. But the warmth of his breath mixing with the wetness of his tongue was a new, amazing feeling. He moved his tongue around absentmindedly as his free hand found its way to her, just next to her opening.

He stopped his actions and looked up at her. "Okay?", he asked. She looked at him before nodding her head. They kept eye contact as he slid his finger inside her. She gasped as he did and couldn't help but notice a small smile on his face. He quickly resumed his efforts with his mouth, causing her to throw her head back in ecstasy.

If she thought that what he was doing before was amazing, it wasn't anything compared to now. The feelings he produced were stronger than anything she had felt before. She couldn't believe that he was on her, and inside of her. And he wasn't just any he, he was Ron. The person she had wanted for so long, the person who she had imagined doing this to her nearly every night.

She felt her body begin to tense as he moved his arm from perching him up to her own hand. She squeezed his hand as she came with a low groan. Her legs squeezed his head and she could feel him smile on her as he removed his finger and began kissing back up her body.

He made it to her face, and she opened her eyes, still reeling and panting from her orgasm. They smiled at each other and Ron bent down to kiss her- his mouth tasting of her.

As soon as she regained her energy, she moved his hands to his pants and began to pull them down.

"You don't have to," Ron said.

She looked him directly in his eyes and replied, "I want to." With that, he helped her pull his pants down. She reached for him, grasping her hands around his length, eliciting a groan from him.

"I don't really know what to do," she said nervously. He put his hand on hers and guided her strokes. His face was buried in her neck, and he was mumbling curse word after curse word, with her name scattered in between them.

She used her free hand to bring his face to hers. She kissed him, but it was a struggle, and his mouth kept opening in desire. She brought her mouth to his lower lip and bit gently, much more gently than he had earlier, and let out a husky moan as she did. He released her hand and she began working alone, going faster, in tune with his quickening breaths. She pushed her free hand through his hair, tugging slightly.

"Hermione, I'm gonna-," he said. She began planting small kisses around his face as he let out one last, guttural moan and collapsed on top of her. He laid on her for a moment before rolling off of her.

"Sorry," he said, with his eyes still closed.

"It's alright," she said with a smile before reaching for her wand and cleaning her stomach. She turned to face him and he opened his eyes. She couldn't help but smile at him and he did the same, their smiles gradually turning into fully-fledged laughs. They laid there, smiling, laughing, and kissing, letting time pass until the sun set.

"We should probably head back," Hermione said wistfully, "you wouldn't want to miss dinner," she nudged.

He nodded his head and pushed off the blanket he had put on them some time ago as Hermione had begun shivering again. He had already put on his pants and went down to the edge of the lake to retrieve the rest of their clothes. Hermione had only her knickers on and was having trouble finding her bra.

Her search was fruitless and, as soon as Ron made it back, he got on his knees to help her find it. After a short search, Hermione heard him shout "ah-ha,"- he had found her bra. It had managed to get pushed under the quilt and Ron's blush was barely visible in the dying light as he handed it to her.

"Thanks," she smiled, no longer feeling self-conscious about being exposed in front of him. They dressed in silence and made their way back to the burrow. Before she could open the front door, he ducked down to whisper into her ear. "Pretty good first date, if I do say so myself," he said with a smirk. She beamed back at him and nodded in agreement.


	14. The Memorial Ball- Part 1

When Hermione initially landed in the fireplace of the Ministry of Magic, she worried she was in the wrong place. It looked nothing like it had the last time she was there. Though, to be fair, the last time she was there Voldemort was in control. 

She hurriedly stepped out of the fireplace, having been momentarily stunned by the changes. There were temporary walls blocking the atrium with arches scattered here and there for guests to enter. Wizards in crisp white suits lined the arches, checking guests in. There were hoards of people waiting on the outskirts of the atrium, some in line to enter and others (largely reporters, from what Hermione could tell) trying to get a glimpse or picture of the esteemed guests. 

Hermione got in line with the rest of the Weasleys. She found her hands were shaking with anticipation, though she couldn’t tell if it was due to wondering what awaited them through the arches, or the prospect of being in front of all of these people to receive her award. As the line she was in began to move forward, she was able to peek through the arches and see what awaited her. 

The atrium was tiled in black and green foreboding tiles, however, nothing else looked the same. The horrid statue of the pained and dumb-looking muggles was thankfully gone- replaced with a portable stage. There were tables lining the room, with their golden tablecloths and white orchid table settings heavily contrasting the darkness of the room. There was a golden dance floor glimmering in the lights of an elephant-sized chandelier at the centre of the space and to its right was a modest bandstand. Music wafted in and out of the expansive space, sending tingles down Hermione's spine. 

Hermione reached the usher and handed him her wand for identification. Thankfully, she had her original wand back. It had been mailed to her weeks ago, having been found in the debris from the Battle of Hogwarts. She couldn’t stand using Bellatrix’s wand, and it didn’t seem like Olivander’s would be opening soon, so she was lucky that they found her (and Ron’s) wands. 

The usher confirmed her identity and then asked to check her robe. Hermione shot a glance at Ginny, who was pretending not to hear. She peered into the ballroom and could see that all of the witches and wizards were robeless. With some disconcertment, Hermione handed the usher her robe, exposing the lack of fabric on the back of her dress. She moved to enter the makeshift ballroom and caught Ron staring at her, his eyes wide. His response made Hermione chuckle to herself, reminding her of when he had first seen her dressed up, earlier that day. 

He was the first to see her after she, Ginny, and Fleur prepared for the prestigious event. Thankfully, Hermione was not left to her own devices when getting ready. If she had been, she likely would be without makeup and with her telltale frizzy hair. Fleur had helped her with her makeup and tamed her unruly hair, while Ginny helped put scar-disappearing cream on her back, just in case. Now, looking back, Ginny must have known that they would be asked to take off their witches robes. 

To say that Ron was shocked by her transformation was an understatement when he saw her earlier. His mouth laid agape when she had caught him in the stairwell. He had reached out and touched her waist with trepidation- like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“You’re beautiful,” Ron whispered into Hermione's ear, sending shivers down her spine. She went to respond, but Ron stopped her, pressing his lips to hers; not letting her respond. Hermione was almost the same deep red colour as her dress when they were interrupted by Fleur and Ginny coming down the stairs. 

Ginny had made a gagging noise when she saw them but quickly passed them by, looking eager to see Harry. Ron and Hermione stayed back for a minute, and Hermione was finally able to get a good look at Ron. His hair had been smoothed down, though it still had a hint of stubbornness that she had grown to love, and his face was stubble-free. He was wearing a new wizards robe, one in a dark blue and Hermione could see a cream coloured waistcoat underneath it. Everything he wore fit him impeccably, something that was rare when it came to his clothing. Hermione felt as though she was in a Jane Austen book, with words like  _ dashing _ and  _ debonair _ coming to mind to describe him. Though, instead of those words, she chose to tell him how handsome he looked. 

The Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were instructed to sit at the same table- the one closest to the stage. All of the Weasleys had made it, much to Hermione's surprise. Charlie had portkeyed in the day before, Percy arrived at the burrow right before they floo’d together to the Ministry, and even George had come. Though he was not himself- he seemed disjointed and not-really-there; nothing like the life of the party he used to be. 

They were quickly offered the finest Goblin wine (not that Hermione could tell the difference) and given a menu of the dinner. Ron licked his lips while reading the menu and whispered in Hermione's ear that he purposely ate a light lunch for the occasion. Despite what he said, Hermione was sure that she had seen him eat two sandwiches for lunch. 

They weren’t sitting for long, as it felt like the entirety of the ball’s guests wanted to talk to them. After an exhausting amount of  _ thank yous _ and much too personal questions, they finally found their friends. Neville was also receiving an Order of Merlin (along with Headmistress McGonagall) and he was sitting with his very enthusiastic grandmother on one side of him and Luna on the other. 

Ginny was the first to find them and engulfed them both in a tight squeeze as they immediately began chatting. She expertly darted questions about the next Hogwarts school year and called over Harry, Ron, and Hermione to talk with them. Their group soon grew, as anyone who fought in the final battle was invited, along with their families. 

Beyond catching up, they got to hear more tales of the last year at Hogwarts; something that Ginny had largely avoided talking about at home. While most of the stories were sad or scary in some way, they were talked about with laughter and pride. Seamus boastfully lifted up his shirt and showed off the scars he had “earned” from the vicious treatment of the Carrows. Many of the young men seemed jubilant, more jubilant than someone who had only one glass of wine. Hermione wondered to herself if they had a bit of a pre-party before arriving. 

If Hermione closed her eyes, she could imagine they were back in the common room at Hogwarts- the fire roaring as they talked about their adventures and incompetent professors. She felt a comfortable warmth grow in her and couldn’t tell if it was from the wine or being with her friends again. 

However, the joy quickly faded as the discussion changed to the friends who were no longer with them. Pavarti’s eyes filled with tears as they told stories about how Lavender had used her flirtiness to distract unsuspecting Slytherins whilst the DA planted dungbombs across the corridors. No one had a dry face when the discussion moved towards Colin and the pictures he had taken to help rally the school, some of which Dennis had brought and shown the group. 

A voice echoed through the room, and Hermione couldn’t help but flashback to when Voldemort had talked to them during the battle. But this time it was a soothing witch's voice saying that the first course was about to be served. Ron took Hermione’s arm (which cued an echo of wolf whistles from Seamus, Dean, and Ernie) and led her back to their seats eagerly. 

Hermione was pleased to see that Lee, Katie, and Angelina were crowded around George and laughing. It had been so long since she, or anyone, had seen him laugh. They were eventually shooed away, and the first course (a salad, much to Ron’s dismay) was served. 

They had just finished their last course of chocolate mousse when Kingsley walked to the stage. Applause deafened the room before he was even able to begin his speech. Hermione's heart rate seemed to speed up as the applause trickled away- she knew what was coming. 

Kingsley welcomed everyone in a deep, booming voice. He talked about the trials of the last year and the purpose of the memorial ball- to remember and to celebrate. His words were woven like a fine tapestry and he had everyone captivated. There was not a peep from the guests, that is until he mentioned the Order of Merlin.

Cheers rang out as he listed the names of the awardees, some Hermione knew and others she had only heard of. He then, one-by-one, gave an overview of why each person was receiving the honour. 

Much to Hermione’s dismay, he went alphabetically and he spoke of her first. He talked about everything she had done, from her first year to her last, even mentioning that she was a “champion for magical creatures rights.” Her stomach was twisted the entire time he spoke. She was not one for attention and felt like she could feel every other person in the room's eyes on her. She felt uncomfortable and something else that she could only recognise as despair. She couldn’t help but think of her parents, and how impressed they might be; she longed for them to be there.

Finally, he moved on to the next honouree (though not after raucous applause). When he got to Harry, everyone stood synchronically, though no one instructed them too. Through the applause and cheers, Hermione could see that Harry was miserable, however hard he trying to put on a smile. 

Eventually, Kingsley got to Ron, who had grabbed Hermione's hand under the table as soon as Kingsley said Ro-. He blushed and beamed as Kingsley talked of his bravery. Molly dabbed her eyes throughout his speech and, as soon as he was done, Bill gave Ron a too-hard pat on the back almost causing Ron to fall out of his chair. 

When the talk of each recipient's achievements was over, they were asked to join Kingsley on the stage. Thankfully, they did not have to line up alphabetically, and Hermione positioned herself between Ron and Harry. 

Being on the stage was disorienting. There were bright white lights shining on them, making it near impossible to see the guests at their tables. Kingsley’s voice seemed quieter on the stage, and Hermione struggled to make out what he was saying. 

Ron was first out of the trio to get his medal, and Hermione couldn’t help but smile when he walked back to her with a bit of swagger, accentuating the metal hanging from his chest. Hermione then received her medal, though she stumbled as she kneeled as she was not used to balancing in heels. Harry was next, and before they knew it they were being ushered back to their seats. 

The cheerful feelings in the room soon diminished, as the agenda changed from celebration to memorial. Kingsley spoke of bravery and sacrifice in such a way that no eyes were dry. When he finished his moving speech, something that looked similar to a projection screen floated down beside him. A pianist began to play a melancholy tune as a black-and-white moving picture was displayed on the screen. 

The first person shown was not someone Hermione knew, though, after Kingsley’s remarks about him, she felt like she did. Next was Lavender Brown, and Hermione could feel Ron suck in a breath when her picture came up. Colin was next, then more and more pictures came up, some of older people and some of those so young Hermione was sure they couldn’t be of age. 

By the time Fred's picture came up, she was fully crying. And she wasn’t alone- the atrium was no longer quiet, as sniffles and sobs rang out, echoing due to the raised ceiling. Kingsley gave a wonderful speech about Fred and his humour and hijinks mixed with bravery and strong-will. By the time the memorial section was over, Hermione felt exhausted. But, looking at her watch, she knew the night was only just beginning. 


	15. The Memorial Ball - Part 2

Hermione knew that people were staring, she could hear cameras flashing, but she didn’t care - all she could focus on was Ron’s hand on her back. When he first led her to dance, his fingers had lightly grazed the skin of her back. Now, his hand was firmly placed as low as it could go, just barely touching the top of her dress. He shakily twirled her and almost stepped on her feet too many times to count; no one could say they were good dancers, but they were having fun. 

It had taken some time to recover from the memorial portion of the ball. The pianist kept playing a mournful melody as the guests recuperated. Their food had long been magicked away, with only their wine glasses still on the tables. Hermione surmised that the never-ending alcohol played a large part in the rowdiness that soon overtook the crowd. 

When the musicians began to play lively music, throngs of ball guests teemed the dancefloor like a group of ants devouring a crumb. The first song they played was a Weird Sisters song, one Hermione recognised from the Yule Ball. Her memories overwhelmed her from that day, mostly good, but others not as good. 

She felt a tap on her shoulder and shook away her thoughts. Ron had his hand out; inviting her to dance. This wasn’t the Yule Ball - this time she was with Ron. Her grin intensified as she and Ron joined the already-dancing Ginny, Neville, and Luna. She wondered whether Neville and Luna were together, though their dancing was no help for trying to figure out their relationship; Luna was in her own world, dancing wildly on her own, just near enough to Neville and Ginny to be considered part of their group. 

“Welcome,” Ginny said enthusiastically, her cheeks blushed from wine and dancing. “Glad you guys aren’t too cool to dance.” She motioned to Harry, who was sitting alone at their table, slowly sipping his wine with his gaze directed to the ground. Hermione hoped that he wasn’t brooding, as he tended to do when reminded of the losses from the war. 

She went to check on him, but Luna caught her, spinning her wildly until she fell into Ron’s arms. She quickly forgot about Harry, as Neville began teaching them the dance moves that went to the song playing. They all laughed and giggled at their incompetencies trying to copy Neville; Ron couldn’t stop tripping over his feet; Ginny was harsh and stiff, her face twisted in concentration; Hermione was one beat off of the rest, and Luna was attempting to do each step upside down. 

When the song ended, they were all red-faced and huffing, still laughing from the high the dancing caused. The musicians began to play the next song, and the tonal change was abrupt. They were now playing a soft melody, much calmer and slower than its predecessors. The dancers around them began pairing off, and it only took a moment for Ron to offer his hand. 

They had been glued to each other since. Hermione didn’t know how long they had been dancing together, though, from the aching in her feet, she could tell it had been a while. Ron spun her around again, this time a bit more gracefully, and Hermione could see that there were only a few people still dancing. Luna was by herself on the dance floor, appearing to be dancing to an entirely different, very upbeat, song. Ginny and Neville had since left the dance floor, and Hermione wasn’t sure that Harry had danced at all. 

As soon as Hermione returned from her twirl, Ron pressed his body flush against hers. She could feel the heat he was emitting and knew that she was no better, after all, they  _ had  _ been dancing for a while. The mix of wanting to be closer to Ron and her tiredness creeping in caused her to point her head to the exit when the latest song finished. Ron understood what she was trying to say and they attempted to sneak out of the ministry.

The chill of the cold London night hit Hermione brutally as soon as she stepped outside. She immediately began shivering and regretted not grabbing her robe. Ron seemed to notice this, as he pulled her closer to himself, warming her up instantly. They walked for a bit, hand in hand, not looking any different than the other carefree, young couples wandering the London streets. Though their intentions (or at least Hermione’s) weren’t all that innocent; she was looking for a good, secluded spot to snog.

They turned a corner and Ron was about to pull them into an alley when they heard voices. Ron instinctively grabbed his wand and gave Hermione a pointed look. He pressed his finger to his lips and turned to enter the alley, wand drawn. 

“Ginny?”, Ron questioned and Hermione turned the corner to see what was going on. 

She was surprised to see that the noises they heard were actually coming from Ginny - and Harry. Hermione had been so focused on Ron, that she hadn’t noticed them leave the ball. Though, if they had planned to sneak away and snog, like Ron and Hermione had been, they weren’t successful; Harry was currently being sick into a pile of rubbish while Ginny rubbed his back. 

“He had a bit too much,” Ginny explained unnecessarily, as it was quite obvious what was going on with Harry. In flashes, visions of Harry drinking flowed through Hermione’s brain. She couldn’t remember how much he had, but he had clearly drunk quite a bit. In fact, the only time she could think of him without a glass in his hand was when they received their honours. 

A pang of guilt hit Hermione when she couldn’t recall him dancing or having fun. The only time she could remember him smiling at all was before dinner, when they were gathered with their Hogwarts friends. Come to think of it, he was chugging wine even then. 

“We should get him home,” Hermione said with concern. 

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, “as soon as he’s done,” he added under his breath. 

Ron shot Hermione a look, and she could tell that he was feeling as guilty as she was. How did they manage to miss this? It was as much Harry’s night as the two of there’s, if not more so. Hermione resolved that they needed to spend more time with Harry; they needed to mend their “golden” trio. However, that would be difficult, as she and Ron were headed to Australia in a couple of days. Harry had wanted to stay with Ginny. Or at least that’s what Hermione thought. She couldn’t remember asking him. 

Harry seemed to have stopped vomiting, at least for the moment, and Ron went to help get Harry upright. Harry swayed between his two friends, barely able to stand even with Ron propping him up. 

“I’ll get our things and tell the family,” Hermione said. “Do you think you’re able to side-along?”, she asked Harry. 

Harry grunted something unintelligible. 

“He’ll be fine,” Ginny replied for him. 

“Alright,” Hermione replied. “I’ll meet you three back at the burrow.” Hermione checked her watch, it was half-past twelve, more than late enough to leave the ball without question.

She was right; when she said her goodbyes to the Weasleys and her friends no one was surprised that they were headed back. As a matter of fact, most of them had already left, including Mr and Mrs Weasley. 

Hermione apparated to the burrow and tiptoed quietly to Ron’s room, which was challenging to do with all of their robes and bags in her hands. Harry was in his camp bed sound asleep with a rubbish bin by his side when Hermione opened the door. Ginny had already changed into one of Harry’s shirts and was sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed, looking over him with an expression of love and regret. 

Hermione barely noticed Ron was in the room, as he was pressed against the wall, looking as though he wanted to be anywhere but there. 

“I’m going to stay with him,” Ginny said. Hermione expected a half-hearted excuse from her, such as Ginny needing to keep Harry on his side or to clean up the rubbish bin, but there was none. She didn’t need one, not really. Even if Ginny hadn’t told Hermione they were in love, Hermione would have been able to deduce it- it was plain to see and, right now, Harry needed her. 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione whispered as she put Harry and Ginny’s things down. 

Ginny shook her head, but Hermione wasn’t sure that Ginny understood what she was apologising for. She was sorry for not noticing Harry at the party, for not spending more time with him, for making all of his stress and anguish fall to Ginny. She knew that he wasn’t coping, and she hadn’t done a thing to help him. 

Hermione turned to leave and felt a presence behind her. If Ginny was staying in Ron’s room, Ron didn’t have a place to sleep. Sure Harry and Ginny could squeeze into his cot, but Ron wasn’t likely to want to be there too. She opened the door to Ginny’s room and kept it open for Ron to come in. 

Wordlessly, she went to her wardrobe and began taking off her jewellery and releasing her hair from the pins digging in her scalp. 

“What’s the matter?”, Ron asked while watching her from her bed. He did know her well. 

“It’s just,” she started, “I feel so guilty letting Harry get like that. He should have been having fun like we were. Instead…”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being Harry’s mate over the years is that you can’t force him to do what he doesn’t want to do,” Ron stated. 

“I know,” responded Hermione. “Still, we should have included him more.”

“What, we should have had him dance in between us?”, he asked incredulously. “I like the man, I really do, but not like that.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Hermione said, chuckling in spite of herself. 

“I know,” he said more seriously. “We should have done more. It’s been so bloody hard with Gin always there, and then there’s you.”

“Hey,” Hermione playfully objected. 

“I just mean you’re a distraction. A good distraction,” he added before standing up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. “We’ll do more from now on,” he said. He began to kiss the back of her neck and then trailed kisses down her back.

“I love this fucking dress,” he said. “You should wear it more often.”

Hermione laughed. “Oh yeah, it’s the perfect outfit for getting groceries or going for a walk,” she said sarcastically. 

Ron began to kiss back up her back, his warm breath causing her to sigh. Then he stopped in the nook of her shoulder to suck and she couldn’t help but moan. She flipped around and planted a kiss on his surprised lips. After his surprise worn down, he reached his arms around her bare back and began to guide them to her bed. 

As soon as the back of her knees met her bed frame, she faltered, plopping onto the bed. 

“Sorry,” he said, nervously pushing his hair off of his face. 

She shook her head and pulled him down by his tie, desperate to continue their snogging. She had managed to rid him of his jacket and unbutton his waistcoat when they were interrupted by the sounds of footsteps in the hall. Charlie was staying the night and seemed to have just arrived back. 

The interruption reminded Hermione that they were not alone. Even with a silencing and locking spell, they were still under the Weasleys' roof, and the thought stopped Hermione from continuing her pursuits. 

Ron must have had the same thought, as he stopped too. 

“I have an idea,” he whispered as he picked up two extra blankets that were on the bottom of Hermione's bed and grabbed her hand. Soon they were whooshing through the air- apparating to wherever it was that Ron planned to take them. 


	16. The Memorial Ball- part 3

They landed quickly with an expertly soft “thud”, and at first Hermione didn’t recognise where they were. She could tell that they were outside, as the moon was shining brightly overhead. The moonlight doused them in blue light, reflected from a nearby lake. Suddenly, Hermione figured out where they were. 

The lake behind the burrow looked so different than it had when Ron took them there on their first date. If it wasn’t for the glow of the moon, she was sure it would look ominous. The trees loomed over them, looking like claws reaching out of the ground. But the pale moonlight made it so the trees were barely visible; lost in their own shadows. 

Ron reluctantly released Hermione’s waist and began to spread one of the blankets on the ground. While the night wasn’t too dark, Hermione felt that they could use a bit more light, and began to create her small blue light balls, placing them on the perimeter of the blanket. She also added some privacy spells, though it was unlikely anyone would look for them there. 

“Where’d you get that?”, Ron asked curiously, motioning to Hermione's wand. He was kneeling on the edge of the blanket, pushing the edges down.

“What do you mean?”, Hermione asked. Had he forgotten that she had also been mailed her wand?

“I mean, there’s no place for you to hide that. None that I can see, at least,” he joked with an eyebrow wag. 

“Oh!”, Hermione exclaimed. “It was Fleur's idea.” She walked over to where Ron was kneeling and lifted the side of her dress, revealing the lace garter she had been holding her wand in. 

Ron’s expression changed from lighthearted curiosity to seriousness in a flash. Even in the dim lighting, Hermione could see his eyes darken with lust. 

He reached to her exposed thigh and grabbed her garter. Hermione expected him to pull it down, which he started to do. But he stopped after a moment, changing his mind. He leaned his head to her inner thigh and placed a soft kiss on her supple skin before grabbing the garter with his teeth and pulling it to her ankle, nipping at her flesh as he did. 

Hermione was sure she had stopped breathing and heaved a gasp as he pulled it all the way off. She hastily kicked off her heels before kneeling next to him on the blanket. For a moment, neither of them moved. She stared deeply into his eyes, temporarily lost in their determined glare. Then, in a split second, they both descended on one another. Hermione reached for his tie, trying desperately to undo it, while Ron reached for her dress to take it off. 

Neither of them was successful, as Hermione couldn’t figure how to undo his tie, and Ron couldn’t take off her dress because she was kneeling on it. They both let out a shaky laugh, realising they would have to go about their efforts in a different way. Ron reached for his tie as Hermione stood, taking off her dress in one swift movement. 

Ron had rid himself of his tie and waistcoat by the time Hermione kneeled back next to him. She felt underdressed, as she was now only in her knickers. 

“I amend my earlier statement,” Ron said, trying to look serious, though Hermione could see a flicker of a smile on the corner of his mouth. “As much as I love that dress  _ on  _ you, I much prefer you without it.” 

Hermione let out a strange squeak, which she had intended to be a laugh, before reaching over and taking Ron’s undershirt off. The reflection of the moon shone on his face, and she reached out to touch him. She revelled in his blue eyes which were illuminated by the moon and staring at her with a look of deep admiration. She moved her hand across his chiselled chin, rubbing her thumb across his moist lips as she did. At that moment, she couldn’t help but feel lucky; lucky to know him; lucky to finally be with him. 

His mouth descended on hers, forcing her to fall back. He cushioned her head with his hand as he assumed his position on top of her. They had only been kissing for a short while, but both of them were panting. She wondered if it was from their activities or the anticipation of what was to come.

Hermione knew she should feel cold- it was a breezy night and she was nearly naked. But the chills running up her body were only from Ron’s touch. The alcohol she had drunk mixed with her desire warmed her from her centre outward. 

Ron reached to take off her knickers, and she happily obliged. His hand touched her delicate skin and she instantly felt sparks erupt. He kissed her without hesitation, moving from her mouth to her neck to her breasts in a smooth transition. 

She could feel herself tensing as he used his hand to pleasure her, much more expertly and confidently than last time. She instinctively dug her nails into his bare back as her tension rose. Ron lifted his head from its spot on her chest. She expected his mouth on hers, wanting desperately to feel his lips ravage her, but they never came. Her eyes fluttered open to see what he was doing, and she found herself face-to-face with him. 

He was staring down at her, watching her. His eyes were heavy and he bit his lip, looking almost as far gone as she was - he wanted to see the effect he had on her. His hand quickened its pace, and Hermione bent her head back in ecstasy, letting out a cry as her body shook in release. 

When she recovered, she found him still staring at her; still looking just as hot and heavy but with a touch of pride. She reached her hands in his hair and pulled him to her, finally getting the kiss she had waited for. 

Ron wrapped his arms around her, pressing his weight onto her body. She could feel heat emanating from his chest and was reminded that he still had on his trousers. She removed her hands from his hair and began to undo his belt. He sat up to help her get access and she was struck with what she truly wanted. 

“Ron,” she said, trying to put all of her desires into his name. 

He paused his undressing and looked back at her. “Are you sure?”, he asked unsteadily, understanding what she was asking. 

She looked up at his guarded gaze, and was hit by an intense emotion; she was more sure of this than she had in a long time. “Yes,” she replied breathlessly. 

“You don’t -,” he started. 

“I want to,” she interrupted. “That is, if you want to,” she added cautiously.

“Yes,” he gulped and took off his trousers and his pants in one fell swoop, causing Hermione to laugh how hurried he became. 

He leaned back over her, careful to not have their bodies touch and kissed her once more. It was a gentle kiss, a questioning kiss - but a loving kiss. Though he abruptly broke it off. 

“You should do the spell,” he said urgently. 

She smiled up at him, grateful for how much he cared. Though, like most times, she was one step ahead of him. “I already did,” she responded. 

Ron tilted his head and eyed her curiously. “When?”, he asked. 

“Before,” she replied vaguely, breaking their eye contact, pretending to be especially interested in the stars above her. 

“Before?”, he asked, his eyebrow cocked in confusion. 

“Before,” she stated. 

He looked like he was trying to do a tough maths problem in his head. She decided to be honest, as it looked like he was straining himself. “Before the ball,” she explained. 

“Before the ball?”, he repeated, understanding dawning on his face. “Before the ball,” he said again, looking chuffed. “So you planned this?”, he asked. 

“Not planned,” she said. “Hoped, wished, wanted- but not planned,” she stated, echoing what he had said only days before. 

Her confession appeared to give Ron more confidence as he positioned himself at her entrance. He lent down to kiss her once more as he entered her. 

They both gasped at the unfamiliar feeling of being entwined with one another, cutting their kiss short. Ron opened his eyes and paused his movements. 

“You alright?” he asked, sounding struggled. 

Hermione, too, opened her eyes and looked up at his concerned face. “Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled, trying to relax her tightening muscles and get used to the new stretching sensation she was experiencing.

Her answer didn’t seem to convince Ron, as he was still frozen and looking uneasy. She reached out and pulled his lips to hers, wrapping her leg around his waist as she did. This seemed to be enough to convince him, as he began to move inside her. 

Their breathing became ragged, and they both moaned with each thrust. Ron was no longer able to focus on kissing, as he was preoccupied with his other actions. So, instead, he touched his forehead to hers, trying to connect them in as many different ways as possible. His grunts were mixed with whispers of her name, or at least his best pronunciation of it while overcome by euphoria. 

“I-“, he groaned as became unsteady and finished mid-sentence.

This time, he did not collapse directly onto her but instead fell next to her. His arm wrapped around her waist as he recovered. His eyes were still shut and his breathing was still ragged. Hermione savoured the feeling she had from the knowledge that she did that to him. 

She had always been slightly concerned about her first time. Her parents weren’t particularly conservative, though it wasn’t something that was talked about with ease in her household. The gist of what she was told was to be safe but to wait for the “right guy”. She could still remember the awkward conversation her mum had with her one summer, trying to explain how to use condoms, and even giving her some when she was done with her lecture. Her mum looked so uncomfortable that Hermione didn’t have the heart to tell her that she wouldn’t need condoms, not when magic was involved, anyway. 

Naturally, she heard lots of falsities when living in an all-girls dorm. There was lots of talk of romantic getaways, cherry’s popping, and feeling like a “real woman”. She tried desperately to block out Lavender's talk of her relationship with Ron, most of which Hermione now knew to be untrue.

She knew that most of what was gossiped about couldn’t be true, so she got to reading. Most were anatomical books, but not all. She supposed the raunchy books her mum kept hidden in the guest bedroom weren’t the best when it came to an accurate sex education. But that didn’t mean she couldn't enjoy them. 

She had worried that she wouldn’t be ready, or that the pain would be too much. She fretted over accidental pregnancies and hidden std’s. And, of course, she had expected to feel changed, different after, as her dorm mates had described. But, none of that happened. She felt like the same old Hermione. And sure, she might be a bit sore tomorrow, but it was worth it. Ron was worth it. She lov-. Hermione stopped her train of thought and tried to focus back on reality. 

Ron smiled up at her, and, upon noticing her slight shaking, covered them both up with the other blanket. They snuggled underneath the blanket, and Hermione rested her head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady. So much so that Hermione was pulled by it, feeling her eyelids closing.

“I love you,” Ron blurted and Hermione felt her breath catch. She looked up at him. He looked just as surprised at his sentiment as she did. 

“I sho-“,

“I love-,” they both said at the same time. 

Hermione took a deep breath and repeated herself. “I love you too.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I suppose this is technically the fourth part of the memorial ball, though it is technically the next day. Anyway, hope you enjoy this fluffy chapter.
> 
> ~Dot

" _I love you," Ron blurted and Hermione felt her breath catch. She looked up at him. He looked just as surprised at his sentiment as she did._

" _I sho-",_

" _I love-," they both said at the same time._

_Hermione took a deep breath and repeated herself. "I love you too."_

"Really?", Ron asked in a shocked tone, his eyebrows raised and his mouth agape.

Hermione nodded her head, a smile creeping up her face. She couldn't believe that he said it, that _she_ said it. But why not? It's how they felt. No matter that they had only been dating for a month. They had known each other for the better part of their lives.

Ron smiled back at her and leaned in for a kiss. Though, it did not last long, as he struggled to wipe the grin from his face for long enough to snog.

"Are you sure?", he verified, though he looked much less uncertain than earlier.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Very much so." And added: "are you?"

"Yes!", Ron nearly shouted. They both broke out into laughter. Even though she was firmly on the ground, Hermione felt as if she was flying. She felt high and knew it wasn't from the remnants of alcohol in her blood. Their giggles eventually subsided and Ron's face hardened. "I love you, Hermione Granger, I have for a long time."

Hermione felt the air escape from her body. She wasn't sure if it was because of his sudden change to seriousness or the gravity of what he said. "I have too," she whispered.

Ron looked at her, still appearing thoughtful, and nodded his head.

"How long?", she inquired, wanting - no, needing - to finally know the truth.

"You first," he smirked.

"Oh." She was reluctant to tell him what she had been holding in for so long. However, she knew she had to be honest. Especially if he was to be honest with her. She pushed her hand through her stiff hair filled with Fleur's hair products and rolled to her back, blinking at the nearly blinding moon.

"I suppose I've fancied you for a while," she said. She could see him urging her on from the corner of her eyes. "Since," she took another deep breath, trying to recall the exact moment she fell for him, "well, maybe since you tried to curse Draco for calling me a mudblood."

"Really?", Ron asked and she turned her face towards him.

"Once I knew what Draco meant, and how you tried to protect me, well, I knew that I felt differently towards you. Differently than I felt towards Harry. Though, I don't think I truly accepted it until the Yule Ball." She paused for a moment, looking into Ron's pained face.

"I don't blame you for that," she said earnestly. "I finally understood how I felt about you. I realised I wanted _you_ to ask me, not Harry, not Krum; _you_. And that terrified me. We were best friends, I couldn't do anything to jeopardise that. No matter how much I wanted to. So, I pushed it down. Or at least, I pushed it down the best I could."

Ron nodded his head and gently stroked her arm.

"As for when I knew I loved you, it's hard to say. As I said, I tried for so long to ignore my feelings for you. But, I guess I truly knew- truly figured it out- when you left."

Ron sucked a breath in and Hermione stopped. "We don't have to talk about it," she said.

"No," Ron said adamantly. "I want to."

"Alright," Hermione said, not completely convinced. "It was the thought of never seeing you again," she said shakily and paused, trying to compose herself. "I knew the risks, I knew we wouldn't likely survive. But, the thought of never getting to see you again… it broke me."

"I'm so sorry," Ron said, tears glistening in his eyes.

"It's okay," she said. "I forgive you. In a way it was good."

"How?", Ron asked incredulously through his tears.

"Well, it wasn't you leaving that made me realise how much I loved you; it was you coming back. I was so happy to have you back, to see you again, it made me come to terms about how strong my feelings were towards you."

"You sure didn't act like it," Ron said with a laugh.

"No," Hermione said, laughing as well. "I was right pissed, and I was on a mission to make you know it. But, I also loved you so much."

"Say that again," Ron whispered.

"I love you so much, Ron Weasley," she said with a smile, her chest feeling so full she was worried she would burst. "Your turn," she added cheekily.

"Okay, blimey," he started. "I've fancied you since… fuck, I don't know. Definitely figured it out during the Yule Ball. I was so jealous. But I didn't realise it at the time. I tried so hard to come up with a solid reason as to why I was so upset with you. And when I couldn't, I just tried to ignore it. It's like you said, we were best mates. And it's not like you'd fancy me back."

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Well, I did," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I know that now. Merlin, I was daft." He pushed his fringe out of his face with a forceful hand. "If I had had the balls, we could have been together a long time ago."

Hermione smiled, and Ron looked at her quizzically. "I'm just as much to blame. Think about it though," she said with a laugh. "What if we had gotten together earlier, in 4th year, or 5th year, or 6th?" She had given these scenarios a lot of thought, in recent days."It would have been terrible."

"What do you mean?", he asked, looking offended.

"I just mean," she explained, "think of who we were back then. We would have had one fight over something silly, and that would have been it. I'm not sure we would have lasted long."

Ron scrunched his face in thought but nodded his head.

"I mean, I'm only 19, I don't think I've figured it all out," she said. "But I'm a much different person than I was a few years ago. I think you are too."

"Yeah, I get what you're saying," Ron said. "But, what about last year, I think we could have had a shot then."

"Yes," she agreed. "We may have. However, I don't think Harry would have."

Ron tilted his head, reminding Hermione of a confused dog. by what their owner was telling them.

"If we had started dating while we were on the run, there's no way we would have been focused enough to do much good. Or at least I wouldn't have; I would have been too preoccupied with the next time I could get in your pants." They both laughed at Hermione's rare attempt at vulgarity.

"Fine," he said with a fake _huff_. "You're right. Still, it would have been nice."

"It would have," Hermione smiled. "You still haven't told me," she urged, "when did you know that you loved me."

"That's easy," he said, making Hermione the confused one. "It's when you came back after enchanting your parents."

Hermione felt her heart drop at the mention of her parents. She spent a whole day without thinking about what she had done to them. Her streak was over. "How?", she asked in a small voice.

Ron began stroking her hair, and Hermione wondered if he understood how the topic upset her. "I knew I had fancied you before that. But when I learned of what you did; all that you sacrificed - for me, for Harry, for us. It hit me like a rogue train. _I love this woman_. I didn't want you to feel like that ever again, and I wanted to be worth your sacrifice."

Hermione felt tears pricking her face and Ron swiped his finger over one of her fallen tears.

"Does that make me sound like I've gone soft?", he asked, only seeming to be partially joking.

"No," Hermione said with a forceful head shake. "You're wonderful," she said. Ron grinned and leaned in to kiss her once more. In between each kiss, he uttered _I love you_ more and more enthusiastically. Kissing her atop her face and down her neck until they tired.

* * *

The blazing sun was the first thing Hermione noticed when she awoke. She blinked her eyes until they adjusted and remembered where she was. She was currently starkers under a thin quilt and pressed up against Ron's similarly naked body. They had fallen asleep at some point in the early morning, though Hermione couldn't pinpoint exactly when.

With a jolt, she realised that they never went back to the burrow, and people could be looking for them. She also had no idea what time it was or how long they've been gone.

"Ron," she said reluctantly, causing him to stir. "Ron," she said again, this time gently pushing his shoulder. His eyes opened and he let out a long drawn-out groan.

"Sorry," she said softly. "We fell asleep. Do you have the time? We should be heading back to the burrow."

It took Ron a minute to process what Hermione said, but when he did, he sat with a start. He checked his watch, the one Hermione had enchanted, and he wore constantly. "It's half-past 9," he said groggily.

"Good," she said. "Maybe no one has realised we're gone." While normally, the household was awake by this time, Hermione supposed that after such a long night, they might be having a lie-in.

They hurriedly dressed, reminding Hermione of their last time at the lake, and agreed to apparate separately. Hermione was first and took the blankets as she disapparated to Ginny's room.

Ginny was already awake but looked as if she just got up. When she saw Hermione, who was sloppily dressed in yesterday's ball attire, her hair matted and her make up smeared, she smirked.

"Had a good night?", Ginny teased.

"Yes," Hermione said, unable to stop the smile creeping on her lips.

Ginny smiled back at Hermione, but added gloomily: "glad one of us did."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, feeling guilty for leaving Ginny on her own to deal with Harry, once again. "We should have stayed."

"No," Ginny said, waving her off. "There was nothing to do. Harry was nearly passed out the entire night and I did my best to sleep too. It's much better that you skived off, don't listen to my moaning."

"Still," Hermione said, "I'm sorry you didn't have a better night."

"It was great up to that point," Ginny assured. "Though it seems like you had a lot more fun."

Hermione blushed. "I did," she said bashfully. Ginny raised her brows. "We love each other," Hermione confessed.

"And?", Ginny joked. "What else is new?"

"Yeah, well, we hadn't told each other yet," Hermione said.

"I know," Ginny said. "I'm glad you finally got the guts to tell each other."

Hermione playfully threw her pillow at Ginny. But she wasn't upset. "I am too," she said thoughtfully. Hermione worked on once again getting out of her dress and into acceptable day clothes.

"You're lucky you came back when you did," Ginny said. "Mums up, and I'm sure she's going to come knocking any time."

"We kind of lost track of time," Hermione smiled.

"Oh, yeah?", Ginny asked. "Was it good?"

"It was," Hermione said. She knew that would be all she shared with Ginny about the previous night. Best mates or not, Ginny was still Ron's brother, and there were some things she wouldn't go into detail about with her.

As if she knew what they were talking about, at that moment, Molly knocked on the door, letting them know that brunch was ready.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I want to thank everyone for their support, kind comments, and kudos. I love reading about your thoughts on the story and appreciate everyone who takes the time to review!
> 
> ~Dot 
> 
> CW: Brief mentions of an eating disorder

Everything was starting to feel normal. It was a cold June day and a fire had been started sometime after brunch. Molly had made a meal for the first time in ages and it was happily devoured by the (still slightly hungover) family. Harry looked positively green, but he managed to hold down his toast. Even George made it to the meal.

After cleaning up, Molly retreated to her room, but even without her, the home felt full. Ron and Charlie (who was staying through the weekend) were going at an intense game of wizard's chess, while George, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione watched. They deftly avoided conversations about the war and their future, instead, they turned their attention to the game. For a moment, Hermione felt her stress melt away.

Then she felt it. The all too familiar pain began inching up her body. Her eyes shut instinctively as she tried to calm herself. She couldn't panic, not here, not now. She knew she was going to lose control very soon, and she had to cover for herself before that happened.

"I'm going to shower," she said, her words tumbling swiftly out of her mouth. To her relief, no one seemed to care about her announcement, as they were all too focused on the game. She quickly stood and tried not to run to the loo. Only George looked up as she was leaving. He briefly made eye contact with her, but she was in too much pain to try to decipher what his expression read.

She managed to make it to the loo just in time. As with times past, being sick did nothing to relieve her pain. She stumbled to the tub, hastily ripping off her clothes as she did.

The boiling water of the bathtub stung her skin, temporarily distracting her from her pain. The water filled much too slowly, leaving her skin red from the heat as it made its way up her body.

Finally, she was submerged in the tub and tried to coax the water to ease her pain. She wanted to scream; she wanted to cry. Rather, she laid there unmoving, her eyes shut and her body stiff.

Why was this happening? She thought she knew why, but she tried not to entertain that possibility. How long could this go on? She shook her head, causing jolts of pain to move up her neck and into her face. If she could just stay still enough- if she could just not move- the pain would subside. Her eyes shut again as she tried to focus her energy on breathing as stilly as possible.

She knew she couldn't stay in the loo too long without causing suspicion (or at least someone needing to go). So, after what felt like a half an hour, she reluctantly got up. Her pain had subsided some, though she could still feel sharp pricks whenever she moved.

She dressed and dried her hair gingerly, and put on her best _I'm fine_ face as she headed to the sitting room. Eerily, the minute she entered the sitting room, something felt off. The mood had changed, and she noticed that Ron and Charlie were no longer playing chess. In fact, Ron was nowhere to be seen. However, before she could question what was going on, Arthur walked up to her.

"Hermione," he said, and Hermione could feel all of the eyes on them. "Molly and I would like to talk to you."

"Alright," she said. She wanted to ask if something was wrong. From the look of the others, it seemed like it was, but she couldn't tell from Arthur's tone.

Arthur nodded his head and Hermione followed him. They didn't walk far, and she realised that they were headed for the master bedroom. She had never seen Molly and Arthur's bedroom; she had no reason too. For it to be like this- for her to be summoned- she was now sure something was up.

Her mind flitted through the possible scenarios. What could have possibly happened in the last half an hour? Was it something to do with her parents? She was already packed (she had been for over a week) and she and Ron were supposed to leave in two days. Had something gone wrong?

Arthur pushed open the bedroom door and let Hermione go in first. Molly was upright in bed, pillows cushioning her back. Hermione felt like she shouldn't be there, to see her so vulnerable, tucked up in her bed in a dressing gown. It didn't feel right.

The master bedroom was decorated much like the rest of the burrow, with an eclectic mix of antique patterns, wooden furniture, and homey quilts. It was a small room, though about double the size of Ginny's. Overwhelmed by the intimacy of being in the elder Weasley's room, Hermione did not notice at first that Molly was not the only one in the room. Ron was seated on a small upholstered bench placed across from the bed.

Ron gave Hermione a face which signalled to her that he had no idea why they were there, and Hermione sat next to him.

"Hermione, dear, how are you doing?" Molly asked in her motherly tone. Normally this would have eased Hermione, but now it only put her more on edge.

"I'm well," Hermione replied quietly.

"I'm glad to hear it," Molly replied with a smile as Arthur took his spot at the edge of his bed.

"Thank you for coming to talk to us," Molly said, and Hermione nodded her head. She heard Ron mumble _like we had a choice_ as Molly continued. "I'm afraid I've heard some concerning news."

"Are my parents alright?", Hermione practically blurted.

"Oh yes, dear," Molly reassured. "We haven't any news about them."

Hermione nodded her head, feeling her shoulders relax a bit. Though the anxiety came speeding back. If they weren't there to talk about her parents, why were they there?

"I'm sorry if I've worried you," Molly said and Hermione shook her head. "Anyway, it's come to my attention that you," she looked at Hermione, "have been having some troubles."

Hermione's expression must have shown her confusion because Molly went on to explain. "It sounds like you've been sick quite a bit." Ron looked at Hermione with his brows furrowed and Hermione felt her heart drop. Had she been that obvious? Did they know about the pain she was having? Did they know _why_? Suddenly, she felt like she was the one who was exposed and vulnerable.

"And I want to know," Molly asked, "is there any chance you're pregnant?"

"Pregnant?", Ron asked incredulously and Hermione almost laughed. They thought she was pregnant! They had no idea what was actually going on. She eyed Ron, who looked like he was trying to figure out if that was a possibility.

"No," Hermione said, trying to wipe the grin off her face. "I'm not pregnant."

"Are you sure?", Molly asked.

"Positive," Hermione said.

"Good, good," Molly said. "You know you are a part of this family," Molly added. "And we would have supported you two, but you're so young; you should spend your freedom while you have it."

"Weren't you and dad the same age when you had Charlie?", Ron asked.

"Yes," Molly said simply.

Hermione stood to leave, happy to put this behind her, but Ron pulled at her sleeve. "Then why have you been sick?", he asked, looking concerned.

Hermione plopped back down on the seat with a sigh. She frantically tried to think of an excuse. It had to make sense, while not being serious.

"Well," she said, trying to give herself more time. "I think I'm just having a hard time adjusting to eating so much," she said, feeling slightly proud of her lie.

"You see," she said, turning to Arthur and Molly. "When we were on the run, we often didn't have much to eat. And now that we have all this wonderful food, I think my stomach's having a hard time adjusting. But, I'm sure it will go back to normal soon."

"And you're not doing it on purpose?", Molly asked.

"No, of course not," Hermione reassured.

"Well now that we've got that settled," Ron said eagerly, "can we be excused?"

"Yes," Molly said, "I suppose so". Hermione saw a flicker of worry in her eyes as she went to leave.

* * *

"So?" Ginny asked as Ron and Hermione entered the sitting room. All of the inhabitants turned to look expectantly at the pair.

"Finally get the bird and the bees talk?", Charlie taunted and Ron threw a pillow at him.

"Kinda, though," Ron said as he sat on the sofa. "They wanted to know if Hermione was pregnant."

"What made them think that?", Ginny asked.

"No idea," Hermione said. She saw George's eyes flicker away when she did.

"Well, I hope we're not next," Ginny said. "I never liked being called into their room, it always felt like I was being called into the headmaster's office. But Dumbledore was much nicer." The group laughed and Hermione quickly relaxed as the topic was changed to quidditch.

* * *

They were leaving for Australia tomorrow. An owl dropped off their itinerary earlier this morning. It didn't contain much, just what time to arrive at the ministry, where to go, and what time their portkey left. They were to be escorted from the British ministry to the Australian ministry by a British Auror. Once they made it to Canberra, they would then be in the charge of the Australian Magical Guard.

Hermione couldn't help the jitters that permeated her body. Everything was set, and she had packed and repacked for the umpteenth time, but she was still nervous. Getting to Australia was only the first part of the battle. She knew the spell to revive her parent's memories by heart, but that didn't mean it would work. And it certainly didn't mean that they would be happy about what she did.

She barely got through lunch, her nerves getting the best of her. So it didn't help when Ron declared that he hadn't started packing yet. She was shocked, but at the same time not surprised. In the tent, he was always the last one to be ready to move to a new location. He had deterred her attempts to get his trunk, to put it in her beaded bag and to double-check that he packed everything they would need.

Of course, Ron didn't seem perturbed in the least. He winked at her when he suggested that she could help him. Though she couldn't tell if his flirtatiousness had to do with actual flirtation, or if he just didn't want to pack. No matter what his plans were; there was no way that they were going to do anything but pack, Hermione would make sure of it.

Ron's bedroom looked just how it always did; slightly messy and not-at-all organised.

"Thanks for helping me", Ron said as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Apparently, his plan was for them _not_ to pack.

"Mhhm," Hermione mumbled as she removed herself from his arms on the pretence of picking up his dirty clothes. Ron brought his trunk out and began to empty it of it's Hogwarts history. They worked in silence; Hermione rummaging through his wardrobe as he cleaned his trunk.

"It's weird," Ron said, while throwing away broken quills.

"What is?", Hermione asked, assuming he had found something strange lurking in the corners of his trunk.

"What mum said yesterday; that you've been feeling so ill. I've been fine. So has Harry," he said. "You're not sneaking firewhiskey without me?", he teased.

Hermione shook her head and tried to smile in a believable way. She thought this conversation was over. Or at least she hoped it was. She wanted nothing more than to never talk of her health problems ever again. Though she knew that was an unlikely aspiration.

"Hermione," he said as he stood up to face her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, forcing herself to look into his worried eyes.

"I know you," he said. "I know that look on your face. Somethings wrong."

Hermione felt her heart in her throat. She felt trapped. How could she lie her way out of this one? _Why_ did she want to in the first place?

She sat down on his bed and he followed suit. "It's nothing, really."

"You can tell me anything," he said.

She sighed. "I know." Ron looked at her expectantly. "It's just, those times I've been sick, well I don't know why I was, exactly."

"It's not from the food?", he asked.

"No, I don't think so." Ron looked at her with equal parts concern and confusion. "The truth is," she took a deep breath. "The truth is, I've been having some pain, every once in a while, and when it gets bad, I end up being sick."

"What kind of pain?" he asked. "Do you think you broke something?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Hmm," Ron said, his brow furrowed. "That's bizarre, what do you think is causing it?"

"I don't know," she admitted quietly and Ron stared at her with such an intensity that she had to look away.

"Could it be from - from your torture?", Ron asked.

Hermione felt the flood gates open. He said what she had been thinking this whole time. What she was too afraid to speak into existence. It was _exactly_ what she thought was causing her pain.

She nodded her head, worried that if she said something she would break down.

"Bullocks," Ron said, pushing his hand through his hair. "Hermione, that's not good. How bad is it? Why didn't you tell me?" And then, more sternly: "you should have told me."

"I know," she said desperately, "I'm sorry."

She saw Ron's expression soften at her apology. "You should see a healer."

Hermione nodded her head, but it quickly dissolved into an aggressive head shake. "I don't think I need to," she lied.

"What?", He said incredulously. "You're in pain and you don't know why. Of course, you need to see a healer."

"It will probably go away on its own. The pain, the nightmares, I'm sure they're nothing."

Ron scrunched his face in perturbation. "You're still having nightmares?", he asked worriedly.

 _Crap_. She messed up; he didn't know about her reoccurring nightmares. She nodded her head, trying not to dig herself into a bigger hole.

"So let me get this straight," Ron said, standing, his voice rising with his body. "For the past month, you've been in tons of pain- so bad that you get sick- and have been having nightmares? You haven't told me or anyone else? Why Hermione? Why didn't you tell me?" And more sadly: "why didn't I notice?"

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said. "I didn't want to add to your stress."

"Bullshite," Ron yelled. "After everything we've been through, after everything I've told you," he said weakly. "We're supposed to be in this together. I'm supposed to be there for you, not just the other way 'round."

"You need to go to the healers," he said, his anger diminishing.

"I know," she confessed.

"Let's go," Ron said urgently.

"What?", Hermione asked. "We leave for Australia tomorrow, I can't go today."

Ron looked frustrated but sat next to her. "Okay, then as soon as we get back."

Hermione nodded her head. She felt a small sense of relief. No matter how upset Ron was, at least she didn't have to go to the healers, not now.

Ron grazed her shoulder with his fingertips. "I wished you had told me," he said softly.

She looked into his eyes and only saw sadness. "I should have. I love you, I know I can rely on you. It's just-," she stopped.

"What? What is it?"

I'm just," she started, "I'm scared," she whispered. "What if I never get better?" Tears came rolling down her face. _This. This_ was the reason she had been so secretive, why she avoided telling anyone or going to the healers. "What if they can't help me?", she said through her sobs. "What if I only get worse?"

Ron engulfed her in his arms, holding her tightly as she released weeks worth of tears.

"I'm sorry," Ron said dejectedly. "I'm sorry you're going through this. I'm sorry I couldn't stop it."

She shook her head on his chest. "It's not your fault," she said, looking up at his remorse-ridden eyes. "It's not your fault," she repeated. "But, now that I've told you, you can help me get better."

Ron nodded his head, a fat tear running down his cheek. "I will, I'll do anything I can."

"I know," Hermione said.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," she responded. She curled her body into his, letting her crying cease.

"Will you do one thing for me?", Ron asked.

"What is it?", she asked.

"Will you stay the night with me?", he asked earnestly. "So I can be there, so I can help you if you have a nightmare?"

"Yes," she said, for the first time in a long time she felt hopeful. Hopeful that she could feel better. Hopeful that her worries would go away. Hopeful about her future.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thanksgiving got the best of me, so I'm afraid this will be the only update this week. Sorry about that! I hope everyone had a restful and enjoyable week. Thank you all for your support. Onward to Australia!
> 
> ~Dot

"Why'd we have to leave so early?", Ron asked, barely containing his yawn.

"I told you, Australia is 11 hours ahead of us; it'll be dinner time by the time we get there," Hermione said bluntly, doing a final once-over of their things.

They were standing anxiously by the fireplace, Arthur there to escort them to the Ministry. As it was 6 am, only Molly and Arthur were awake. Everyone else had said their goodbyes the night before. The goodbyes had been harder than Hermione expected; she had not been separated from Harry for over a year and the past month she grew close to Ginny. Though the couple didn't seem as forlorn as herself, Hermione assumed they were excited at the prospect of being alone- without Hermione or Ron there to interrupt them. They hadn't blinked when Ron told them that he and Hermione would be spending the night in his room. Harry, especially, seemed eager to be kicked out. Eager for where he would "have" to sleep instead. A fact that Ron seemed especially bothered by; not that he had a leg to stand on when it came to sleeping arrangements.

It didn't help that they had no idea how long they would be gone. Hermione assumed they would at least be a week, and likely no more than a month- but it was hard to say. She didn't know if it would be easy to locate her parents, follow them, and perform her spell without getting caught. The image of her and Ron locked up in an Australian muggle prison flashed before her eyes. After all, they would have to follow her parents and possibly break into their home. If they were caught, they could face loads of trouble. It was one of the many horrible possibilities that constantly swirled through her head.

"Ready to go?", Arthur asked and the pair nodded. Molly engulfed both of them in a tight momma-bear hug and reminded them to stay safe and write whenever they could. Then, one by one, they entered the burrow's fireplace, shouting _The Ministry of Magic_ , as were sucked away.

The Ministry was nearly empty at the early hour. Security was located at the edge of the fireplace they apparated from. There was no line to wait in; an atypical occurrence at the Ministry. Hermione was glad it was empty, there was no one to recognise them; no one to gawk at them. Though she did notice the guard do a double-take.

In the seemingly eternal lift ride to level two, Ron grasped her shaking hand, able to see how nervous she was. He had been so caring to her the night before. She couldn't tell if she liked it; she wasn't used to being taken care of. He had held her tight as they fell asleep, though she was sure he waited for her to fall asleep before he closed his eyes.

She hadn't had a nightmare last night. Surprisingly, she had a good night's sleep, especially considering she was sharing a single bed with an enormously tall individual. Only when her alarm woke her, did she realise she had even fallen asleep. As soon as her wand began beeping, Ron jolted up, fumbling to find her- to check if she was okay. After she reassured him that she was, he fell back asleep, Hermione only rewaking him again right before they had to leave.

Unlike the rest of the Ministry, the Aurors office was bustling. Very tired looking Aurors were being relieved by the morning shift; the Aurors office never closed. Hermione couldn't stop herself from picturing Harry and Ron there, mixed with the hurried Ministry emblem-emblazoned wizards. As she looked closer at the Aurors, she could see the grim reality of the job. Their eyes had dark circles, and their hair was greying, yes, but there was more than that. A scar here, a limp there, reminding everyone of the dangers of the tumultuous career. She gripped Ron's hand tighter, trying to push down the rising anxiety spreading across her chest. She didn't want to imagine Ron in that position, of his life being at risk all over again.

They were introduced to the Auror who would escort them. He was referred to as Sullivan, and Hermione wondered if that was his first or last name. She doubted she would find out, as he appeared to be a man of few words. He looked to be around Arthur's age, his tanned face wrinkling and his blond hair grey at the roots. Even though he was barely taller than Hermione, he seemed much larger. He was broad in every sense, his shoulders wide and angular; his muscles seeming to threaten the hold of his clothes. Hermione thought that if he had lost his wand, he could easily take someone in a fistfight. Something that only partially reassured her.

In his succinct way, Auror Sullivan told them the plan. The portkey left at 6:45 and would bring them to the Australian Ministry. From there, they would be meeting a representative who would have more information regarding Hermione's parents and the details of their stay. Since the Ministry was in Sydney, they would have to travel to Canberra. Sullivan would escort them there, and hand them off to the Australian Guard.

Hermione nodded her head, knowing most of the information he mentioned. She did not, however, like how he said he would "hand them off" to the other Aurors. It made her feel like she was an object- a commodity- not a human.

They still had some time before the portkey left, and after they said their goodbyes to Arthur, they were led to a waiting room. It was much quieter than the rest of the Aurors office, something that unsettled Hermione. She did not want to be alone with her thoughts, especially at this moment. The clock was taunting her; going at a back-breakingly slow pace. _Tick_. She breathed in, trying to steady her racing heartbeat. _Tock_. She triple-checked her bag, shuffling through the contents, making sure everything was there. _Tick._ She started her routine again.

Finally, it was five 'till and they were brought into an empty room with a lone hat laying in the middle. Auror Sullivan walked in at the very last moment (which only added to Hermione's distress) and they swirled into the ether.

The Australian Ministry of Magic was nothing like the British one. Where the British one was dark; the Australian one was light. Where the former was closed in; the later was open space. The building was lined in floor-to-ceiling windows. At the moment, the building was uneasily bright, but Hermione knew that in less than an hour it would be as dark as it British counterpart; the sun setting, engulfing the building in the dark cover of night.

They were met by a jovial, plump, and minuscule man. If he had a beard, Hermione would have thought he was an extra-small Santa Claus impersonator. He, and most of the workers at the Ministry, was donned in green and gold. Which he enthusiastically explained were Australia's national colours. He seemed to be attempting to tell Ron and Hermione the entire history of Australia as he led them through endless green corridors, Auror Sullivan slinking behind. Out of breath, he stopped at their destination, a door which read _Prime Minister._

Hermione eyed Ron as their guide opened the door for them; they were not expecting to meet the Prime Minister. As she walked through the door, Hermione's stomach dropped. She realised they were woefully underprepared for such a meeting. She had no idea what the policies were for meeting the head of the magical community. She didn't even know who the Prime Minister was. She had been so overwhelmed with her preparation and packing that she didn't think of looking it up.

The Prime Minister's secretary greeted them with a bright smile and told them that they could go in, signalling to the door to the right. Before their tiny guide could open the door fully, Hermione was able to catch the name on the plaque affixed to it: _Prime Minister Dawn Davis._ Well, at least she knew something.

Dawn Davis was a tall woman, no older than forty, with dark brown hair pulled so tightly into a rubber band that it looked like it could explode at any moment.

"Thank you for meeting with me," The Prime Minister said, her thin, bright red coloured lips curving into a welcoming smile. "Please, sit." She waved her hands toward the plump chairs facing her desk.

Ron and Hermione sat, still perplexed at the unexpected meeting.

"Firstly," Davis said, "on behalf of the Australian Wizarding community, I would like to welcome and thank you two for your bravery and sacrifice."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond, she still wasn't used to this sort of praise. Thankfully, before she could make a fool of herself, the Prime Minister continued: "While we were not hit as hard as our European counterparts, there was no doubt that Voldemort and his followers were affecting negative and dangerous change here. Thanks to you, and those like you, that is no longer the reality."

Hermione nodded her head, she was not at all aware of how Voldemort's politics affected Australia. "On to what you came here for," Davis said, pushing paperwork towards the pair. "As you know, we have located your parents," she said looking at Hermione. "Monica and Wendell Wilkins have set up a small dental practice on the coast of Canberra. We have had members of the Guard observing them since we located them, and they appear to be safe and happy."

Hermione could feel tears pricking her eyes. She felt slightly lightheaded from the news. She knew they were okay, but hearing it confirmed, not only that they were safe, but _happy_ , made her feel dizzy. She was glad her plan had worked, that they had made a life for themselves. But part of her felt uneasy. What if they were happier as Monica and Wendall than they were as Jean and Paul?

She picked up the paperwork that had been handed to her, trying to look busy.

"We have set you both up in a hotel, in the centre of Canberra. The reservation is for two weeks, though you can stay for as long as you need. Unfortunately, we don't have any such accommodations, so it is a muggle hotel."

Hermione shook her head. Staying at a muggle hotel would be no problem. In fact, she had assumed they would have to find and pay for their accommodations. She had a bit of muggle money left from their last journey, clanging in her beaded bag. It was mostly from a savings account which her parents had set up for her. But, she didn't have much left. She was planning on staying in the cheapest accommodations for the shortest amount of time, hoping her parents would take them in as soon as they found them. If she had to, she could get more out of the savings account, but it would be tricky. She wasn't technically supposed to be able to access it until she turned 20, and getting the money for last year had been precarious enough.

"Canberra is the muggle capital of Australia," the Prime Minister continued, "there is plenty to see and do. I have included brochures for you both. We know you are here for a reason, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourselves."

"Thank you," Hermione finally spoke up. "You've done so much for us."

"Nonsense," Davis said, waving her off. "You should have all you need, but if you have any questions, our muggle phone number is there," she said pointing to the top of a paper. "You can call it from any muggle phone, and will be able to get in touch with me, or my assistants. We have two Guard members waiting for you at the hotel. They will be with you throughout your journey, and the Guard members assigned to your parents will continue their job for as long as they are here."

"Thank you," Hermione repeated.

"Of course," Davis said and they stood to leave. "Oh," she said hurriedly. "One last thing. We are still in the red zone, which I'm sure will change soon, especially since Voldemort is dead. But that means, at the moment, apparation is extremely regulated. So, we have a car for you to travel in. The number is also in your packet, though he should be waiting for you outside of the Ministry. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"It's no problem," Ron said, reaching out to shake Dawn's hand. "Thank you for your trouble." Hermione eyed Ron, seeing a thoughtful and professional man. He had matured so much over the past year and Hermione was overcome with a sense of pride, honoured to be able to call him her boyfriend. She shook Dawn's hand and they were escorted out of the Ministry to the busy road below.


	20. Chapter 20

Their guide assured them it was a quick drive from Sydney to Canberra; " _only three hours",_ he had said. Though neither Ron nor Hermione agreed with his assessment. A three-hour drive could nearly get you halfway across England, a trek that would be too long for most Englanders to take regularly. That was the thing about Australia; it was so big - so expansive. To them, three hours was nothing.

Considering the sheer size of the country, Hermione still was in shock that they were able to locate her parents at all. She imagined having to search every square inch of Australia; every phone book and every dental practice. The task seemed next to impossible. When she had bought the tickets for her parents to go to Australia, she had no idea where exactly they'd end up. She had only planned their entrance to Australia, setting up their passports and closing down their practice in England. After they arrived, there was no saying what they would do. They could have left Australia and Hermione would never have known. Thankfully, they had been found. And thankfully she wasn't the one who had to do it.

Unlike the Weasleys' car, the car they rode to Canberra wasn't magically enlarged. Sullivan sat in the front seat next to the driver, and Ron and Hermione were in the back. Hermione, for one, was glad the space wasn't enlarged. It meant that she could snuggle with Ron without notice.

About 20 minutes into their drive, Ron's stomach began to rumble, and Hermione brought out the sandwiches she packed. She offered one to Sullivan, but he waved her off; he was too focused on any potential danger to eat. Ron happily took his instead. He had mouthed _I love you_ to Hermione when she unwrapped the sandwiches. And wasn't that love- anticipating your lover's needs and prepping for them? The sandwiches were really only for Ron, after all; Hermione was too nervous to even think about eating.

She spent most of the drive staring out the window, a part of Ron always touching her; a hand, a shoulder, a knee. She watched as a diverse landscape emerged out her window. The landscape changed from city to country and then back to city. The houses closed in on each other and skyscrapers loomed over them; the brightness of the city lights was in extreme opposition to the dusk in the countryside. Ron had fallen asleep sometime in their second hour of travelling, but was jolted awake by an ambulance going by; a sound neither of them were accustomed to.

As they pulled up to what looked like their hotel, Hermione squeezed Ron's hand tightly, expectantly awaiting what was coming next. It was now pitch black, with only the streetlights and the hotel's dim lights illuminating their view. Once they parked, Hermione took Ron aside, pulling each of their trunks out of her bag; she knew it would look strange to arrive at a hotel with no bags or luggage.

From the outside, their hotel looked like any other hotel; square, brown, and slightly imposing. But from the inside, it was entirely different. The lobby was filled with plants; planted palm trees and bushes lined the walls; the eves overflowed with a variety of greenery. And, looking up, Hermione could see the ceiling was made of glass. It may have been a muggle hotel, but it felt magical.

She led Ron to the welcome desk (with Sullivan keeping his distance behind them) and found the paper with their check-in details on it. The tired-looking women behind the desk asked them for their name, not looking above her computer as she typed in their information. That is, not until she read that they had booked three suites for two weeks. She eyed them carefully, trying to assess them, her eyebrow raised when she spotted Sullivan lurking behind them in the near-empty lobby.

She suspiciously handed them their room keys and pointed them to the lift, watching them carefully as they left her sight.

The lift was thankfully empty when the three of them entered, allowing them to let their guard down, if only a bit.

"Glad this was here," Ron said. "I thought we were gonna have to lug our stuff up three flights of stairs." Then, as realisation dawned on him, his face changed from relief to worry and he grabbed Hermione's arm. "Wait," he said urgently, "how in the bloody hell is this working? How are we moving without _magic?",_ whispering _magic_ under his breath. Hermione saw a small smirk appear on Sullivan's face at Ron's lack of experience with the muggle world.

Just as Hermione was about to explain the rope and pulley-type system that muggle lifts worked on, the lift dinged, and they arrived on their floor.

Hermione found their keys and led them through the long and narrow hallway, eventually landing on the second to last room. The two adjoining rooms were a part of the booking under her name, though she only had the key for the middle room. She assumed that the other two were for the Guard members, especially since the receptionist told them that the guests for those rooms had arrived some time ago.

She swiped the key in the lock and went to open the door. Though Ron stopped her, perplexed by how she was able to unlock the door with a piece of plastic. After attempting to explain the inner workings of a hotel key, she finally pushed open the door, revealing a large living/kitchen space.

The walls were the same taupe brown of the building exterior, though the colour looked more inviting in their room. There was a small kitchen, equipped with a full-sized refrigerator and stove, as well as an island bar to eat on. In the centre of the room, there was a two-person sofa with a painfully abstract picture hanging above it. The sofa faced a cabinet, which Hermione assumed held the television. To their left was a locked door; the door adjoining their room to the next. And to their right were two swinging doors, likely leading to the loo and the bedroom. At the far end of the room was a floor-to-ceiling glass sliding door, opening up to a small balcony overseeing the city of Canberra.

"Blimey," Ron whispered to Hermione, "this is nearly the size of a house."

Hermione went to open the door to what she thought was the bedroom when two people entered the room, suddenly appearing at either side of them.

Sullivan jumped in front of Ron and Hermione, poised to fight, but he soon realised the others were not harmful. Both wore muggle clothes, though they looked a bit off.

The woman wore a plaid jumper under a pair of overalls with a bright red belt and blue and green striped socks peeking out of her trainers. Her frizzy auburn hair was half-heartedly put up, held by a rubber band that looked like it might snap at any time. Freckles covered her face but were barely visible under her tanned skin. The most remarkable thing about her, however, was her height. She barely stood to Hermione's chest, her bun helping to make her look a _bit_ taller.

In contrast, the man who had entered their room was taller than Ron; an uncommon feat. He had dark brown skin and hair that almost matched. Where the woman seemed to be challenged with finding matching patterns and colours that go together; the man didn't seem to bother with colours at all. He was dressed in all black from his head to his toes. He had on a black turtleneck under a black calf-length leather jacket. Hermione supposed he better evoked what a bodyguard should look like, though they both looked off in their own ways. She wasn't sure how they were going to be able to _not_ draw attention with the two of them at their sides.

They confirmed their identities as Guard members through a series of codes and numbers that only Sullivan understood. Then they asked Ron and Hermione what their code words were. Eventually, Hermione found them in the stack of papers Dawn had given them. Hermione was "sapphire", and Ron was "aquamarine".

"Great," the female Guard member said, "now that we've got that sorted, I'm Mel and this is Miro. We can take over now," she said, eyeing Sullivan.

Sullivan didn't appear to take issue with this as he mumbled his goodbye and swiftly left.

"We'll let you get settled," Mel said. "But first, we should go over safety precautions." Mel led them through the living space, showing them where magical cameras and motion sensors had been set up. She assured them that there were no cameras in the en suite or the bedroom. Because of that, there were emergency buttons in those rooms instead.

She swapped the key that Hermione had for one that was enchanted, making it so that no one- outside of the four of them- could enter the premises. She explained that the windows and sliding door had safety spells on them, ensuring that no one could enter or see through them.

Finally, she explained that she and Miro were in the rooms attached to theirs and they had to be notified whenever Hermione and Ron wanted to leave their room, as they would have to escort them wherever they went.

Ron and Hermione thanked them both and they went to their respective rooms. As soon as the doors closed, Hermione went to explore their suite. The first door she opened led to the bedroom. To her mild disappointment, there were two beds in the bedroom instead of one large one. Though, she thought the individual beds looked big enough to fit two. The bedroom was standard for an upscale hotel, but it was the bathroom that truly stood out. On top of the typical amenities; a toilet, a shower, a sink; the middle of the room showcased a large jetted tub. Something Hermione was sure would fit two people.

"This is nothing like the place we stayed in Egypt," Ron said, having found himself back to the sofa. "Are all muggle hotels like this?"

Hermione laughed. "Not at all," she exclaimed. "This is far nicer and larger than anything I've stayed in."

Ron smiled and patted the spot next to him. Even though they had been sitting for the last three hours, her body ached and felt relieved when she plopped next to Ron. She curled her head into his chest and he began gently stroking her hair.

"I could get used to this," Ron said. Hermione wasn't sure if he was referring to their suite or cuddling alone together. "Though there is one thing that would make this even better." As if on cue, his stomach growled causing both of them to break out into laughter.

Hermione checked her watch, it was nearly 10 Australia time, and she wasn't sure that anything would be open that late. She walked to the desk in the corner of the room and found an advertisement describing the restaurant in the hotel. It was about to close, but they offered room service until 3. In the many papers that Dawn had given them which Hermione had read and re-read through their laborious drive, one mentioned that their stay was "all-inclusive". It explained that any meals they ate at the hotel were covered by the Australian government.

"We can order room service," Hermione offered, starting to feel a bit peckish herself.

"What's room service?", Ron asked and they both laughed.

"It may be your favourite muggle invention yet," Hermione teased.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Wow! Hello readers. Long time! Long story short, I've had a couple of miserable weeks, which is why I wasn't able to post. If you have stuck with me and this story- thank you! And if you're new, welcome! Please enjoy.
> 
> ~Dot

"Hermione!" Ron shouted ecstatically. They had just finished their pizza, and Ron went to explore the rest of their suite. She found Ron sitting on one of the beds, pointing to the tele. "There's another television in here!", he exclaimed.

Hermione smiled and nodded her head, happy to see him so enthusiastic. She found the remote and showed Ron how to turn on the television and then excused herself to the loo.

When she got back, Ron was still on the edge of the bed, staring intensely at the screen. "Did you know that our hotel has the largest indoor atrium in Australia?", he asked without peeling his eyes from the tele. "That's why there were so many plants downstairs."

Hermione peered at the television, seeing that it was playing the hotel's information channel on a loop. "That's great," Hermione said. She showed Ron how to change the channels and he began to click through. She sat next to him, enjoying watching his intense fascination.

After clicking through each of the channels multiple times, he turned to look at Hermione. "Was this how it was for you?", he asked.

Hermione wasn't sure what Ron meant, but he quickly explained. "Going to Hogwarts," he specified, "with everything being different and fascinating, and not making one ounce of sense?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes, I suppose so," she said. Though comparing television to magic seemed like apples and oranges.

"That must have been scary," he said under his breath, a look of realisation flooding over him.

"In a way," Hermione agreed. "The idea of magic, and wizards, and goblins, and ghosts existing felt- well- it felt quite ridiculous at first. If Dumbledore hadn't explained and shown us magic when he told us, I would have laughed him off. The things he told us, the things he showed us, were the stuff of fairytales. And it felt like I was in a fairytale, especially once I went to Diagon Alley. To see actual broomsticks, people doing magic, getting a wand; I felt a bit like I was dreaming. It was so overwhelming. Add that to the fact that I would be going to a boarding school where no one could tell me where exactly it was, and there was no way to communicate with the outside world aside from owls, and I'd rarely be able to come home, well frankly I was terrified."

Ron nodded his head. "No wonder you read so many books."

Hermione laughed again. "I was quite the reader before," she stated. "But after I got my hands on books about the magical world, I went a bit overboard. I suppose I wanted to be prepared; to try to know what to expect."

"That makes sense," Ron said.

"Is it only now just making sense?", Hermione teased.

"Kinda," he laughed. "I always thought you were obsessed with reading and getting good marks. I never thought about _why_ you were that way."

"Well, I can't say that your first thought wasn't an accurate assessment; I've always been a bit obsessed with reading and good marks," she joked. "But, having it be about these magical things, well, it really raised the bar. Of course, I could never understand why you and Harry weren't more interested in school. Though I suppose that you being raised with it made it less exciting."

"That doesn't explain Harry," Ron said.

"No, it doesn't," Hermione laughed. "Though, to be fair, he tended to have more important things on his plate."

Ron nodded, and turned his head back to the tele, though he soon looked back at her. "Tell me about what you were like before Hogwarts," he asked timidly.

"Oh," she exclaimed, not expecting this line of questioning. "I don't think I was much different than when you met me; bushy hair, buck teeth, and an obsession with being right."

Ron smiled briefly, but his face soon grew to look of shame and perplexion. "That's not what I mean," he said. "I mean, what was your life like? You didn't have magic or a fuck-load of siblings; I don't know what that's like." And then, he added bashfully: "I've never really asked you."

"I've never really volunteered that information," she reassured. "I can't say that my life was all that interesting. I went to school, I read a lot, occasionally we'd go somewhere for holiday. But, overall, it was quite boring."

"I don't think so," Ron said. "I never went to school outside of Hogwarts. What was that like? I bet you were the best in your year."

Hermione laughed. "Sometimes," she said. "Frustratingly, best in my year was always between me and this boy. Sometimes I was, and sometimes he was."

"I can't imagine anyone being smarter than you," Ron said earnestly, and Hermione playfully hit him on his shoulder.

"Thanks," she said. "It was different then; I was different then. I cared about my studies, I cared about being the best, but I spent a lot of my time with my head in the clouds. I was always reading, so much so I got reprimanded for it more than once. I was always dreaming, lost in the fantasy that my books created," she said, becoming lost in her memories. "So I wasn't the best student," she said, coming back to reality.

"I guess I get that," Ron said. "I bet your house was so quiet that you could read whenever you wanted."

"Yes," she said wistfully, "it was quiet."

Ron lifted his hand and brushed her cheek. "Was it lonely?", he asked softly.

"A bit," she replied. "I guess it was good that I had my books to keep me company, especially when my parents got home late from work."

"Were they not home with you?" Ron asked, used to not only having his sibling around but also his stay-at-home mum.

"They tended to work into the evenings," she said matter-of-factly. "But they were home most weekends."

"But what did you do?", Ron asked, concerned. "Were you alone even when you were little?"

"When I was very young I had a nanny," she said, looking away from Ron as she did; she didn't want him to think of her as spoiled. "She would take me to and from school, make me dinner, and often put me to bed. But, when I was 9, we moved closer to school, so I could walk there myself."

"Who cooked your dinners then?", he asked.

"I did," she said with a laugh looking at Ron's concern. "Don't worry," she joked, "there was more than just fish and mushrooms." Ron made a face at the memory of their dismal meals in the past year. They had both vowed to never eat fish or mushrooms again; it was unlikely that they would be able to stomach it. "Oftentimes I'd have leftovers or TV dinners, it wasn't hard with a microwave."

"That's the one that makes food hot in minutes, right?", Ron asked.

"Yes," Hermione smiled, happy that he had remembered their past conversations. "I guess that likely added to the shock of transitioning to Hogwarts. I had all of my meals prepared and was always surrounded by people. Even just going to your house was a bit of a shock."

Ron smiled. "I think it's a shock for most people."

"It is quite rambunctious there," Hermione laughed.

"Yeah, I'm not sure it's everyone's cuppa tea," he said.

"Oh, I loved it," Hermione said.

"Really?", Ron asked.

"Yes!," she reassured. "The burrow is wonderful. I loved every time I visited."

"Really?", Ron asked again.

"Really," she stated. "Didn't you notice that I kept visiting for longer and longer periods each summer?"

"I didn't really think about that," Ron said earnestly. "I was just happy to get to see you," he blushed. "And your parents were okay with it?"

Hermione felt her face fall. "As okay with it as they could be." She paused, taking a breath. This was exactly the topic of conversation she didn't want to go down.

"You see," she explained, "I never had a relationship with them like you do with your parents. I love them, of course, but they were never ones for overt shows of affection; we rarely hugged or talked about our feelings. Good ol' British stoicism," she joked. "So it was always hard to know exactly how they were feeling. But I think, after a while, we got used to being apart. In fact, I found it awkward when I spent a long time with them," she added earnestly. "We quickly ran out of conversation after I went to Hogwarts."

Ron looked at her with an intensity; oozing concern and worry.

"It wasn't bad," Hermione reassured, trying to make it seem like it didn't bother her. Though Ron didn't look convinced. It really _wasn't_ that bad. She knew her parents loved her. She had a safe and somewhat spoiled childhood. When comparing her upbringing to people like Harry's, it was amazing. It was only when she compared it to Ron's that it fell short.

"It's probably why I liked going to yours so much," she added. "It was so different; home-cooked meals where everyone ate together, conversations that went on for hours, and, of course, you," she said with a smile and curled herself into his arms.

"Everything is going to work out," Ron said as he squeezed her closer.

Hermione felt the breath leave her body. She was so worried, so tense, about the prospect of reversing the spell on her parents, that her body ached. Ron said what she was most worried about; something going wrong. And while talking about other things felt like the right course of action, talking about her and her parents' strained relationship was not the best way to keep her mind off her worries.

She melted further into Ron's arms as unwelcome tears began to run down her face. She tried to hide it from him, but a sniffle gave her away. He brought her head into his hands and wiped her tears with his thumbs.

"Bugger," he said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

She shook her head as best she could with his hands still on either side of her face. "You didn't," she said. "I'm just worried about my parents."

"I know," he said. "But I meant what I said, it will be okay. You know they are okay; that they are healthy and your spell has held. And I have no doubt that you'll be able to do the counterspell no problem. You don't need to worry about that."

She nodded her head, not telling him that _that_ wasn't what she was worried about, exactly. She wrapped her arms around him and climbed onto his lap; her tears had stopped falling. She placed a delicate kiss on his lips before snuggling her head into the nape of his neck.

"You better be careful," he said with a sharp intake of his breath.

"Why," she asked, though she thought she knew his answer.

"I'm trying to be there for you, to comfort you. But you're making it harder to focus on that," he said with a laugh.

"Well," she said, moving her head so she was staring right at his eyes. "Then what was the point of me wearing matching knickers?", she fake pouted.

"Really?" he asked astonishedly.

"I mean they're nothing special," she said. "But they _do_ match."

Ron tilted his head, still surprised by the turn of events.

"I figured, we might as well put the time we have alone to good use. Even if it's not for very long," she said.

"I like that plan," he said before kissing her passionately and pulling her down on the bed.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Hello all! I firstly want to thank everyone for their kind words and reviews! I am doing a bit better (I'm mainly dealing with health issues) so thank you for your well wishes, it means so much to me.
> 
> ~Dot

The morning light shone through the extra-large windows making diagonal lines of light across Hermione and Ron's bodies. The added warmth woke Hermione, and she found herself wrapped tightly in Ron's arms. She paused, listening to Ron's steady breathing and trying to take in the moment before what she knew was to be a challenging day. As she was lavishing the feeling of Ron's strong arms around her, his breathing changed, and she knew he had woken up as well.

"I think we should do that thing we did last night again," he said.

Hermione popped up, raising an eyebrow at Ron's salaciousness.

"When we ordered food to our room," he clarified, laughing at the innuendo he accidentally let slip.

"Oh," Hermione said, joining him in laughing. "Room service."

She picked up the room service menu next to their bed and began reading it out loud.

"Though," Ron said after they had placed their order, "I wouldn't mind doing the other thing as well," he said with a cheeky grin.

Hermione playfully threw her pillow at him before getting up to face the day. They got ready in silence and Hermione couldn't help but notice Ron sneaking glances as she changed out of her pyjamas.

There was a knock and Hermione finished brushing her teeth to meet the waiter and their breakfast. Though, when she opened their front door, she was surprised to find it empty. There was another knock, and she realised it came from Mel and their adjoining door.

"G'day," Mel said enthusiastically. She was already dressed for the day, or so it seemed. She had a bright blue faux fur coat on top of checkered trousers, with yellow platform sandals to top it off. It was just about as strange as her look from the day before, if only a _bit_ less ridiculous.

"Can I come in?", Mel asked and Hermione opened the door. "How are ya going?", she appeared to ask both her and Ron.

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond. She looked at Ron, who shrugged, and then tentatively said "good." That seemed to be the correct answer as Mel nodded and continued her journey to their main room.

"I'll need to check your food again," Mel said while motioning her head to their front door. Sure enough at that moment, there was a knock on their door; their room service had arrived.

Mel brought the food in and began muttering incantations as Hermione cleared a place for them at the kitchen bar. Mel had done the same to their food the previous night, which made Hermione wonder what they would do if they were to eat out. Would she have to take the food to the loo to inspect it?

"So what are your plans for today?", Mel asked, having finished her inspection, satisfied that their food was safe. "What time do you want to go to your parents?", she asked Hermione.

"Oh," Hermione hesitated. "I thought we would observe them for a little bit; figure out their movements and such."

"Well, their movements have been pretty well figured out already. It should all be in your packet," Mel said, helping herself to a muffin. Mel was correct; Hermione's parents had been watched for weeks and their routines had been figured out. According to the packet, which Hermione had nearly memorised from going over so often, they would be finishing at their practice around 5 and heading to their home. They rarely went out to eat or ran errands during the week, so it was most likely that they would be home from 5 until the next morning. They tended to follow the same routine, even when they were the Grangers. Hermione knew all this but still didn't want to reverse the spell. Not tonight. She felt like she needed a few more days, at least. A week would be preferable.

"We're in contact with their Guards," Mel said as she picked a blueberry out of her muffin. "They can tell us where they are. I figured we could wait in their house for them to return and then you can do what you need to do," she said matter-of-factly.

Hermione nodded subtly. It was the best plan, and it didn't seem like she could reasonably worm her way out of it.

"Great," Mel said. "We can come over around 4:30 and then head down there. Unfortunately, we have to drive again. In the meantime, you two should enjoy all that 'straya has to offer. We're not too far from the beach, the hotel even has a pool if that's more convenient. I hope you two packed your bathers." Hermione nodded again, but could not think how she could possibly enjoy herself at a time like this. "Enjoy your brekky," Mel said, picking up another muffin as she left.

They ate their breakfast quietly, the silence only being broken when Ron asked questions about whichever television programme they were watching. Hermione was thoroughly out of it; her mind would not stop going to horrible places, showing her every terrible outcome of changing her parents' memories back. There was a large range to the imagined tragedy; from her spellcasting going horribly wrong and her parents having permanent damage to them getting their memories back and hating her for eternity for changing it in the first place. It took everything in her to try to watch the tele; to distract herself, but the dark corners of her mind wouldn't let up.

"Hey," Ron said softly. They had finished their breakfast and were sitting on the couch. Ron was absentmindedly playing with her hair and seemed to be momentarily distracted by the flashy game show on the television. From what Hermione could decipher, the point of the show was to guess how much random day-to-day items cost. Ron tried to play along but was especially bad at guessing the prices, though he still seemed to enjoy the show as he yelled absurdly wrong answers enthusiastically with the contestants.

"I've got an idea," he said as he stood up determinedly. "Wait here," he motioned to the couch as he walked through the doorframe adjoining their living space and bedroom.

Ron took a while, so much so that the tele changed from the price guessing game show to a children's game show that featured a robot and pitted primary school children against one another. Finally, Ron came back and took Hermione's hand. He led her to the loo, showing off the steaming, bubbly jetted tub.

"I thought you needed to relax," Ron said.

Hermione nodded her head. "That's very thoughtful of you, Ron," she said earnestly.

Ron smiled brightly but stood there looking at her, seeming to be waiting for her to say something.

"Would you like to join me?", Hermione asked. Apparently, that was the correct thing to say as Ron smiled larger and quipped _I thought you'd never ask._

The warm water engulfed Hermione, immediately soothing muscles she didn't realise were sore. She scooted further under the water, allowing her eyes to close as she did. She stayed like that for a moment, allowing her breath to steady and her mind to relax. Though that feeling soon subsided, as she could sense that she was being watched.

She opened her eyes to see Ron staring at her; a goofy lopsided smile spread across his face. She smiled back at him and reached for his hand.

"Are you relaxed?", he asked.

"Very much so," Her home responded. It was true; she was already feeling much less tense, even with Ron interrupting her meditation.

"It's not as nice as the prefect's bath, but it's not too bad," he said.

"It's not too bad, at all," Hermione agreed, sinking further into the bubble-filled water. Ron looked away, and Hermione shut her eyes again, revelling in the feeling of the jets against her back.

"You know," Ron said quietly, almost softly enough that Hermione did hear him. "Sometimes, I wouldn't lock the door, hoping that you'd find me."

"In the prefect's bath?", Hermione asked incredulously, not sure if she had heard him correctly. "But anyone could have walked in on you!"

"Yeah, but no one ever did," he said, looking chuffed. Hermione laughed at his outrageous confidence. There was no way she would ever do something like that; there was too much risk. And there was no way that she would have expected Ron to react the way she wanted if he had found her.

"Wait," Hermione said. "What did you think I would do if I _did_ walk in on you?"

Ron guffawed. "I mean, in reality, you probably would have lectured me about not locking the door. But, in my mind, you would have joined me."

"Yes," Hermione smiled. "I can't imagine a 16-year-old me doing that."

"What about 19-year-old you?", Ron teased.

"Well, I am here with you, aren't I?", she countered.

"Yes," Ron said. "And you're even better than I could have ever imagined."

Hermione splashed him, but couldn't stop but smile, his words caused a contented warmth to spread across her chest. She wasn't good at taking compliments. But, Ron's compliments were different.

"So," Hermione inquired, "what _exactly_ were you doing in the prefect's bath?"

"I think you know," he taunted. "At least when Myrtle wasn't perving around."

Hermione feigned shock, but it was hard to sustain. While the image of Myrtle finding him _in that way_ made her laugh, picturing him at all did something else to her.

"What?", Ron asked. "Like you didn't? That's the point of having a private bath, isn't it?"

"I don't think that's what the founders planned when they built it," Hermione said, laughing again.

"You didn't answer my question," Ron said with a mischievous smile.

"Fine," Hermione asserted, a blush covering her cheeks. "I may, on occasion, used the prefect's bath for more than just getting clean."

"Oh," Ron said, pretending not to understand. "What could you have possibly been doing?"

Hermione splashed him once again. "I was," she paused, trying to think of the right word, "wanking," she said, using Ron's choice word for the act.

Ron pretended to be scandalized as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You know," Hermione said after their laughter had calmed down, "I heard you once."

"What do you mean?", Ron asked, his face falling into a serious expression.

"When we were in the tent," Hermione said. "You were in the loo, and I was in the bedroom. I guess you forgot to put a silencing spell on."

"You heard…," Ron's voice faded.

"At first," Hermione said with a laugh, "I thought you were having a struggle in the loo; all that moaning and groaning. Then I realised."

"Did you hear the whole thing?", Ron asked quietly.

"Yes," she said.

"Did I say your name?", he asked even quieter.

"No," Hermione said. She could see Ron's shoulder relax at her statement. It was amazing that, even now, even after they had confessed their love to each other, they were still worried about having made their feelings known to each other before they were ready. "Did you normally say my name?", she asked tentatively.

"Most of the time," Ron said, looking intensely into her eyes, his mood shifting. "Most of the time I thought of you."

Hermione breathed deeply, feeling a sudden bout of confidence overtake her. "I may have joined you," she said.

"What do you mean?", Ron asked.

"When you were in the loo, and I was in bed, and Harry was taking watch; I joined you."

"You mean," Ron said, "that you were wanking to me wank?"

Hermione laughed nervously. "Yes," she said simply.

"Fuck," Ron said. "I wish I would have known."

"Do you think you would have acted on it if you had found me?", Hermione asked.

"I sure as hell hope so," Ron said.

Hermione nodded. She was reminded of all of the times they could have acted on their feelings and didn't. She could imagine, if he found her, that he would have been unlikely to do anything. Just as she would have been. But, it was nice to fantasise that they would have.

"Show me," Ron said, looking resolved.

"Show you?", Hermione asked.

"When you were in the prefect's bath," he said breathlessly. "With the jets."

"Oh," Hermione responded. Her natural response would be to decline, but she was feeling so turned on, that she would likely do anything he asked.

She got on her knees and scooted so that a jet was pointed on her. Soon, Ron was behind her, kissing her neck and touching every inch of her body. She leant into him, letting her head fall back in ecstasy. He moved his hand from her breast to her bum, giving it a gentle squeeze before moving his hand forward, manoeuvring it so that it wasn't in the way of the powerful jet and inserting his fingers into her.

Hermione let out a long moan. It was amazing how quickly she went from feeling normal to being in the throes of ecstasy. She was overwhelmed by the sensations Ron gave her. Before she could help it, her body began shaking with a powerful orgasm.

She leaned farther into Ron's chest, letting her high overtake her. He wrapped his arms around her as she came down.

"I've never been so jealous of a bathtub before," he joked.

She shook her head. "That was all you," she said as she turned to face him. She wrapped her legs around him and he entered her. Ron's head fell back and Hermione took the chance to return his kisses, kissing him sporadically up and down his throat as her hips moved in a similar fashion.

Ron shouted her name as he came, just as he had been doing for years.


	23. Chapter 23

After relaxing in the bathrobes provided by the hotel (which Ron was ecstatic to find) for a while, the walls of the bedroom felt entirely too small and Hermione decided they needed to get out of their room. She wasn’t up for much, so they opted to have lunch in the hotel's small, plant-adorned restaurant. 

Ron did his best to distract her, while also trying to hide how much he was enjoying his steak. Mel and Miro were posing as a couple, sitting at a table across from them, making it hard for them to have any type of intimate conversation. Miro managed to sneakily charm their meals, by walking near their table on his way to the loo after their meals had been delivered. 

Hermione could barely concentrate on her meal, picking at the crisp lettuce in her salad. Her dark premonitions had returned, and while her’s and Ron’s bubbly hiatus had distracted her, the relief was temporary. Ron must have known that she wasn’t feeling herself, for as soon as they made it back to their room he insisted that they change back into their fluffy bathrobes and relax on their bed to find a show that Hermione liked. 

As much as she appreciated Ron’s attempts to calm her, she couldn’t stop her brain (and her heart) from racing. She found herself grasping tightly onto Ron’s cotton-covered arms, trying to push out her demons. 

“Okay,” Ron said, turning down the tele, “go through your plan.”

Hermione grudgingly removed herself from the comfort of his arms to look at him curiously. 

“Don’t look at me that way,” he joked, “you always have a plan and you  _ like  _ plans. I thought that you going over it would help relax you.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. He was right, as he seemed to be most of the time with regards to her. “Erm, we’ll be waiting for them when they arrive home from work. I saw the blueprints of their house and there’s a closet across from the front door, which I think would be a good hiding place.”

“Good,” Ron said. “See, you’re more prepared than I would be,” he smiled. 

Hermione half-heartedly smiled back, before getting back to her plan. “I’ll cast  _ confundus _ and  _ immobulus _ from the closet. I’ll need to be closer to them to alter their memories, but, as long as they're in a good place, I should be able to get near them without the chance of being seen by neighbours. They’ll be confused and immobile, but I’ll need to do it fast so they don’t start to panic. Then I’ll undo the other spells and they should be back to Jean and Paul.”

“That seems easy enough,” Ron reassured. 

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed. “Though that’s not the hard part.”

“What is?”, Ron asked. 

“Convincing them what I did was right,” Hermione said curtly. Ron looked at her with a perplexed expression. 

“I’m sure, once you explain, they’ll understand,” Ron said. 

Hermione shrugged and looked away, not wanting to see the shock in his eyes when she told him how much she had kept from her parents. “There’s a lot to explain,” she whispered. 

“We did have a mad year,” he agreed. “But, you’re great at summarizing, it’ll be like when we explained everything to Kingsley and my family.”

Hermione could feel tears pricking her eyes and scrunched her nose in an attempt to subdue them. “There’s more than just that,” she admitted.

“Right,” Ron said, “you had stopped telling them when you were in the hospital wing,” he remembered. 

Hermione nodded her head. “I didn’t really tell them any of it,” she said. 

“Any of it?”, Ron asked. 

“Death Eaters, the Order, the war, Voldemort,” she said. 

“Voldemort?”, Ron asked, trying to hide his surprise. 

Hermione nodded shamefully. “They don’t know about any of it.”

“Well,” Ron said, taking a deep breath. “That  _ is  _ a lot to explain, but I’ll be there to help you. It’s not like we don’t have the time,” he said with a smile. 

Hermione nodded again, but couldn’t help her emotions from rising. “I’m sorry,” she said, allowing her tears to fall. 

“What do you mean?”, Ron asked. 

“I’m sure this isn’t what you expected; travelling to Australia. I’m sure that you wanted to  _ actually  _ have a holiday; see the sights, go to the beach. I don’t know how today will go, or if any of that will be possible.”

“Hermione,” Ron said, looking intensely into Hermione's eyes, “I came here for you. My only expectation was to be there for you. Plus, even if we go home tomorrow, I’ve had a brilliant time. I’ve got to stay in a humongous room, order room service, watch ridiculous tele programs, and survived taking a muggle lift more than once. And, most importantly, I got to do it all with you.”

Hermione could feel her heart fluttering and her tears abating. She smiled back at Ron, touched by his sentiments, even when he added  _ plus all of the shagging.  _

“It’s not like we don’t have all of the time in the world- we can travel wherever we want,” he added. 

“You’re right,” Hermione agreed, finally taking the time to consider their future. “We can go wherever we want.”

“Where would you want to go first?”, Ron asked. “You made France seem so nice.”

“France was nice,” Hermione said. “Though it would be better with you,” she added with a blush. “I’ve always wanted to go to the states and see the Library of Congress; it’s the biggest library in the world.”

“Of course  _ that  _ would be what you want to see,” Ron laughed. “I’ve only been to Egypt and the UK, so I plan to see the rest of the world.”

“That’s a lot of travelling,” Hermione teased. “How was Egypt? I’d love to see the pyramids.”

“I’d love to show you,” Ron said. 

They spent the next few hours planning their world tour, talking about all the places they wanted to visit and the things they wanted to do. It helped the time pass. So much so, that they were unprepared when Mel knocked on their door, letting them know that they were leaving in 10 minutes.

The drive to the Wilkins home felt never-ending. It was only across town, but it seemed to take longer than their drive from the Ministry. Hermione barely moved, squeezing Ron’s hand and staring unfocused out the window for the entirety of the drive. 

In somewhat of a daze, she entered her parent’s house and made her way to her hiding place, with Ron closely behind. Mel and Miro hid outside, promising to give them privacy as long as no danger was suspected. Ron placed his hand on Hermione's shoulder once they got in the closet, trying his best to comfort her without getting in her way. She barely registered his touch as she looked breathlessly through the crack in the closet, waiting for the front door to open. 

She felt her heart drop into her stomach at the sound of keys jangling outside of the front door. When it opened, she saw her father walk into the foyer, laughing with her giggling mum not far behind. The sight made her freeze. They were there, right in front of her; her parents. The people she had convinced herself she would never see again. And they were laughing, joking about something or other. It made her rethink her plan. They were  _ happy _ . Happy as Monica and Wendell. Happy without her.  _ Maybe she shouldn’t reverse their memories back. _

Before she could act- or not act- she felt Ron gently push her aside and place her parents under the spells she had planned. 

“Sorry,” Ron whispered. “It’s just that you weren’t moving, and I was afraid they’d find us before you could confund them.”

Hermione nodded, still dazed as she opened the closet door and walked over to her frozen parents. Their bodies were unmoving, but their eyes fluttered about; confused and worried. 

“It’s okay,” Hermione said, reaching out to touch her mothers face. “It will all be okay.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, now certain of what she needed to do. She took a step back and aimed her wand at her mother. 

“Retinito.”

“What is going on?”, her father demanded. “Hermione,” he said as if he had just noticed her standing there. 

Her mum was rubbing her temples, looking as if she had a blazing headache. Her mouth was slightly ajar, trying to make sense of her predicament. 

If Hermione's spell had gone right, and it likely had, her parents would remember their time as the Wilkins. They would remember their life over the last year; one that would feel strange on recollection. They would remember having different identities and moving to Australia on a whim. Most importantly they would remember being childless; of having an emptiness they just couldn’t explain. But those memories would be at war with their past memories as they would still recall their life up to their dramatic transition. 

“It’s alright,” Hermione squeaked unconvincingly. “Let’s sit down,” she motioned to the couch in the sitting room. 

“Hermione,” her father said in a demanding voice. 

“Please,” Hermione pleaded, “let's sit down.”

They begrudgingly followed her orders and Ron offered to make tea, allowing Hermione to be alone with her parents. She took a seat across from the sofa which her parents sat on. 

“What in the heavens is going on?”, Jean asked the second her bum touched the sofa. “Hermione, why…,” she hesitated, not quite able to form her perplexing thoughts into words, “where have you been? Why can’t I remember you? Who is Monica? You look ill, are you ill?”, her questions tumbled out. 

“I’m not sick,” Hermione said. “It’s just been a rough year, and I can explain. But, it’s a rather long story.”

“Did you do this to us?”, Paul asked. “Did you use magic to make us feel like this?”

Hermione sighed, realising that she would not be able to start from the beginning. “I did,” she hesitated. 

“What?”, her father yelled in disbelief. “You used magic on  _ us?”  _

_ “ _ Yes,” Hermione admitted. “I’m so sorry. I only did it to protect you.”

“Protect us from what?”, Paul asked, his voice growing louder. 

Hermione unintentionally flinched from his raised voice. “There was a war,” she stated.

Her father went to talk, but her mum placed her hand on his lap, momentarily subduing him. “Between wizards?”, Jean asked. 

“Yes,” Hermione said, thankful to no longer be yelled at. “There was a group of wizards who believed that they were better than everyone else; even muggles. They started by tormenting the muggle world and then went for wizards who didn’t agree with them.”

“By tormenting...?”, Jean started. “Did they cause all of those unexplained natural disasters;” she asked with a gasp, “the tornados and the buildings collapsing?”

“Yes,” Hermione said. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you did this to us, or why we were in danger,” her father asserted. 

“Well, you see, these wizards were especially hateful towards muggles and anyone who was associated with them, like wizards who were born to muggles.”

“Like you?”, her mum asked in a quiet voice. 

“Yes,” she said, “like me. And,” she started, seeing her father begin to question her again. “I was a target.”

“Why?”, her mum asked. 

“I haven’t been the most truthful with you,” Hermione said. 

“I’ll say,” her father remarked. 

At that moment Ron entered the sitting room with a tea tray precariously balancing on his hand. 

“You remember Ron,” Hermione said, thankful for a reprise from her tale. 

Her mum nodded, but her father just grunted. Ron put the tea on the table between them before taking a seat next to Hermione. 

“How have you been, Ron?” Jean asked, trying to at as if it was any normal day. 

Ron looked over at Hermione, not sure of how to reply. “I’ve been alright,” he said. 

“And your family?”, Jean asked. 

“Erm,” Ron started, “how much has Hermione told you?” 

“Not much,” Paul said sternly. 

“Oh,” Ron said, looking over at Hermione again. She wasn’t sure what to do and simply looked back at him with a concerned expression. “My brother died; Fred, I’m not sure if you ever met him.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry Ron,” Jean said. 

Ron nodded uncomfortably. The sat in uncomfortable silence until Jean gasped in realisation.

“What about Harry?”, Jean asked with a start. “Is he…?”

“Oh, no,” Hermione reassured. “He’s okay, he’s back at the burrow.”

“Good,” Jean said, though her expression appeared confused. “It’s only that I rarely remember a time when it wasn’t the three of you.”

“Yes”, Hermione said with a reminiscing smile, “he’s alright.” 

“Well now that we’ve got that settled,” Paul said gruffly. “What in the blazes did you do to us?” 

“There’s been more danger than I let on,” she admitted with a sigh, not quite ready to admit what she did to them. “You see, the man who killed Harry's parents, he was the one who led the movement.”

“How horrible”, her mum said. 

“Yes, and he was convinced that Harry was to be his downfall, so he wanted to kill him,” Hermione said, purposely leaving out prophecies and Horcruxes. 

“But Harry’s just a child,” Jean said. 

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “But that didn’t stop him. And because I was friends with Harry, I became a target. And if I was a target, so were you.” 

“So you…?”, Jean asked.

“Harry, Ron, and I went into hiding. Dumbledore had given us some things to accomplish so that we could, erm, be successful in overtaking the bad wizards. And in the meantime, they had taken over the Ministry of Magic, they had taken over Hogwarts, people were going missing and being imprisoned. We were all in danger.”

Her mum looked at her with her mouth agape, trying to process all that Hermione was saying. Meanwhile, her dad sat there looking like he might implode; his leg was shaking aggressively, and his hands were balled into tight fists. 

“They were defeated,” Hermione said. “And everything is much safer now. That’s why we were able to come here.”

“You still haven’t said what you did to us,” Paul said. 

“Yes”, Hermione sighed. “If the death eaters had-“

“Death eaters?”, Jane asked. 

“That’s what the other side called themselves,” Hermione explained. “If they had found you, they would have tortured you, if not killed you, to try to get to me. I had to do something to protect you.”

“What did you do?”, Paul asked pointedly.

“I altered your memories.”

Jean gasped and let go of Paul who immediately stood; his anger getting the best of him. 

“You did  _ what?”  _ he demanded. 

“I altered your memories,” Hermione said, looking down at her feet in shame. “I made you think you were Monica and Wendell Wilkins and that you wanted to move to Australia. I made you forget you had a daughter.”

“Hemione”, Jean uttered in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, tears running down your face. “I only did it to protect you.”

“Protect us?” Paul shouted, having started to pace behind the couch. “We’re your parents, Hermione. We’re supposed to protect you. Not the other way around. Did you even think for a moment what  _ we  _ wanted? Did you even fathom that  _ we  _ should be in charge of our safety?”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, shrinking into herself. Ron had put his arms around her, and she could see out of the corner of her eye that he was struggling not to speak up. 

“What about my sister?”, Jean asked. “Did you stay in touch with her? What could she possibly think?”

“I don’t know”, Hermione admitted. “I told her that you were going on holiday, but then we were on the run, I couldn’t communicate with anyone.”

“What if she thinks I’m dead?” her mum demanded. 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione repeated. 

“What about our practice, our home, our friends?”, Paul asked. “Did you think about any of that? Did you think at all?”

“Now,” Ron said, having lost his ability to hold back anymore. “Hermione did what she had to to keep you alive. She is brilliant, and I have no doubt that she did the absolute best for you.”

“We should have been aware,” Paul said, holding his ground. 

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Ron said. “My brother, Fred, was murdered by death eaters. As were loads of muggles, amazing Aurors, our friends, and hundreds more. You would not be alive if it weren’t for Hermione.” 

“There is no excuse,” Paul said, throwing up his arms and storming off. 

“Maybe you should go,” Jean offered, her face now covered with tears. 

“But, mum-,” Hermione started. 

“You should go,” Jean asserted. “You’ve given us a lot of information, and we need time to process it.”

Hermione nodded. “When can we come back?”, she asked solemnly. 

Jean looked at her watch. “At least give us a few hours,” she said with a sigh. 

“Okay,” Hermione said, standing up. Ron followed her to the door. “I love you mum,” she said. 

Her mum nodded as the pair left. 


	24. Chapter 24

It felt as if her chest was the Grand Canyon- expansive and barren. She had a sickly, empty feeling the entire drive back to their hotel. As soon as her feet touched ground in their room, the flood gates opened, and she could no longer contain the grief she felt. 

She knew this was going to happen.  _ How could she expect anything less, with what she did to them? _ She could beg and plead for their forgiveness, but they had no right to forgive her; using magic on them, altering their memories, was unforgivable. 

She told Ron all of this in the interim between her sobs. He reassured her that they would calm down; that they would forgive her, but she couldn’t see his reasoning. He gripped her tightly and rocked her softly, using his words and his body to try to placate her. By the time she had calmed down, three hours had passed and it was time to go back. She couldn’t help but feel a bit like Daniel on her way to the lion's den. 

She knew she looked a right mess, even worse than hours before when her mom had assumed she was ill; her hair was frazzled and her face tear-stained. But, she didn’t care. She only cared about seeing her parents again; to plead for their forgiveness. Or, at least, the time for them to forgive her. 

She knocked on the front door, slightly dismayed to see her father answer the door; she knew he was going to be harder to convince of her good intentions. 

“Just you,” he said succinctly, motioning to Ron behind her. 

Hermione paused, taken aback at the idea of not having Ron with her. She apprehensively looked back at him, not sure how to proceed. 

“It’ll be alright,” he assured. Then he whispered: “I’ll come if you need me,” while he leaned nearer to her. He subtly touched Hermione's magical bracelet as he moved away, reminding her of how easily he could be alerted that she needed him. 

Hermione shakily nodded her head and walked through the front entryway, alone. She felt even less confident about facing her parents without Ron. As much as she hated to be  _ that girl _ , she wasn’t sure how she was going to be strong without him. 

She took her spot on the loveseat facing the sofa, as she had sat hours earlier. Her mum was already sitting, looking just as worse for wear as Hermione; her stick-straight hair falling out of her once perfect French twist. Her eyes were heavy and blue-lined, and looked wearily at her daughter. 

“Your mother and I have had a lengthy discussion about the predicament you put us in,” her father said as he sat down. “For the foreseeable future, we are going to stay here; we have set up a successful practice, and we’re quite enjoying ourselves and  _ Monica  _ and  _ Wendell.”  _ He put extra emphasis on their former names. 

Hermione felt her heart drop even further, hating that she was the reason that they were no longer happy. 

“While we don’t forgive you for what you’ve done,” he stated, “we have come to the consensus that we  _ could  _ forgive you; if you make some changes.”

Hermione nodded erratically, desperately wanting to have their forgiveness. 

“Stay with us,” her mum interjected. “Take the year to catch up on your studies; there are plenty of good universities here that you could attend when you finish school. You could become a vet, just like you wanted. You can do whatever you’d like.”

Hermione tried to process what her mum told her. They wanted her to live with them.  _ That wasn’t too bad.  _ It was far from home, sure, but she could make it work. She and Ron could make it work. It wouldn’t be much different from her going to Hogwarts. They could portkey or set up a floo network. Maybe Ron could move out to Australia; they could start their sight-seeing holiday here. 

She knew she couldn’t do it permanently, but maybe after a year, her parents would be more inclined to forgive her. Going to university wasn’t in her plans, and they knew that, but getting her A-levels wouldn’t hurt. It would give her time to figure out what she wanted to do with her future. She wasn’t sure where her mum got the idea that she wanted to be a veterinarian; she could vaguely recall a “graduation” certificate from nursery that proclaimed that that was what she wanted to do when she grew up. It didn’t really matter; she  _ could  _ do this. 

“Okay,” Hermione said. 

“Really?”, Jean asked. Hermione nodded and her mum got up to give her a big, squeezing hug. “I thought it would be much harder to convince you,” Jean said as she sat back down. “I know that giving up magic won’t be easy, but you’ll be so much better off- so much safer- without it.”

“What?”, Hermione asked incredulously.

“Well, you seemed so enamoured with it, with the life you were living. And I know you spent so much time learning magic and practising magic, but we’ll find a way so that it all wasn’t a complete waste.”

Hermione stared blankly at her parents. “You...you want me to give up magic?”

“You really think we can trust you with it?”, her father demanded. 

As she did many times, Jean placed a hand on her husband's leg to calm him. “It’s hurt you so much,” Jean said, “and it’s hurt us. You look like you’ve been to hell and back, and I  _ know _ you aren’t telling us all of what happened. But it’s no matter, we can get through this. You can live a normal, successful life. With us.”

“But…,” Hermione stuttered. 

“You can do it,” Jean said, taking her daughter’s hands. “It will be tough, but you can do it. You can go to school here, meet new friends. Have a new start.”

“New friends?”, Hermione asked. 

“I know you are quite attached to Ronald,” Jean said, and Paul scoffed as she did, “but there are plenty of fish in the sea. And quite built, Australian ones at that,” she quipped with a smile. 

Hermione dropped her mother’s hands in disgust. “You want me to leave the magical world, stop doing magic, leave Ron?”, she asked. 

“If you want a chance at us forgiving you, you must stop doing magic, stop talking to those  _ friends  _ of yours, leave that cult behind,” her father spat. 

Hermione instinctively touched her bangle connecting her and Ron together. “I can’t,” she whispered. 

“Of course you can,” her mother exclaimed. “I know they’ve got you brainwashed, but you can do it, we can help you.”

“I’m not brainwashed,” Hermione retorted, causing her father to scoff again. “I’m a witch, it’s who I am, I can’t just leave it.”

“You may have magical powers,” her mother said, “but it doesn’t have to define you.”

“It does define me,” Hermione said louder, “you don’t get it, you never tried to get it. You have no idea who I am, what I’ve been through!”

“That’s the point,” her mother said, her voice matching Hermione's raised tone. “You’ve been through terrible things, and  _ we  _ failed to protect  _ you.  _ Now's our time to fix it, to be your parents again. You never have to be with  _ those  _ people again.” 

“Those people,  _ those people,”  _ Hermione shouted, “you mean Ron; who risked his life for me more than once; who has taken care of me every day even though he lost his brother; who I love? Or what about Harry; he sacrificed himself for us, for you! What about Molly, who cares about each of her children, who would  _ never, ever  _ ask them to give up what they love? Or what-,”

“That’s enough,” Paul said. “We’ve told you what you have to do. Friends can be replaced, as we well know, as you’ve  _ forced  _ us to do. You did a terrible thing Hermione, don’t go making us feel bad for you. You have a choice, live with us and succeed, or go back to your  _ friends,  _ and we cease contact with you.”

“What?”, Hermione asked, tears running down her face. “You’ll disown me if I don’t give up magic?”, she whispered. 

“It’s for your own good,” Jean said. “It’s the only way we can help you, and if you don’t leave, there’s nothing we can do for you.”

“Mum,” Hermione begged. Her hand was now completely covering her bracelet, wanting desperately for Ron to be next to her. She could message him, but that would require her to bring her wand out, and she didn’t have the energy to do that. 

“You have to make the decision,” her mother said reluctantly. “We can’t force you.” 

“I can’t leave,” she whispered so quietly, that she wasn’t sure her parents could hear her over the knock at the door. Her father begrudgingly got up to answer it. By the time Ron had pushed past her father and made it to the living room, Hermione was in full-blown sobs. 

“What is it?”, Ron asked, immediately going to comfort her. “Are you hurt?”, he asked. 

“How bloody dare you!”, Paul bellowed. “You come into our house uninvited and accuse us of hurting our child! You have no ground to stand on,  _ son.  _ How do we know that you’re not the one hurting her?”

“I am not your son,” Ron defended, standing up so that he towered over Mr Granger. “And I would never hurt Hermione.”

“Well, you have no problem influencing her. How do I know that this isn’t your fault? You probably tell her lies about us each night while you’re buggering her.”

“Paul,” Jean reprimanded. 

“Do you want to leave?” Ron asked, turning his attention back to Hermione. 

Hermione nodded her head, dizzy from the evening's events. 

“If you leave, Hermione, that’s it. You are no longer our daughter. We will not care for you when this all goes to shite,” Paul said. 

“Please,” Jean pleaded, “think of your future, Hermione.”

“What are you on about?”, Ron asked her parents. 

“They want me to leave,” Hermione said between sobs. “They want me to give up magic, to leave you, and live here with them as a muggle.”

“That’s bollocks,” Ron said.

“I will not stand-,” Paul started, heading angrily towards Ron, but Jean stopped him. 

“Hermione,” Jean said, “stay with us.”

“I c-can’t,” Hermione stuttered. “I’m so sorry, I can’t.”

“You can,” Jean said. Hermione shook her head, wishing desperately that this was all a bad dream. 

“Then leave,” Paul said, calmer than he had been the entire intervention. 

Hermione didn’t try to hide her sobs on the drive back to the hotel. Her tears flowed unendingly, but the aching pain in her chest had been replaced with numbness. It was like she had swallowed a tub of lidocaine cream. 

As soon as she made it to their hotel room, she collapsed on their bed, unable to be consoled, even by Ron’s best attempts. 

She didn’t feel an ounce of regret from her decision. There was no way that she could leave the wizarding world. She couldn’t pretend to be “normal”; to be satisfied by her inconsequential achievements. Even more so, she couldn’t leave her friends. Harry, the Weasleys; they weren’t just friends, they were her family. They had been there for her, when her actual family couldn’t, or wouldn’t. And of course, there was Ron; she couldn’t leave him. As silly, and Romeo and Juliet-esque as it sounded; he was her everything. Perhaps it was the lack of remorse of her decision that added to her despair. She  _ should  _ feel worse about leaving her parents. And she did feel bad; she just didn’t regret her decision. 

She laid in Ron’s arms until her tears ran dry. Her pain had not diminished, but her energy to show it had died down. He was stroking her hair, telling her that it would all be okay, that he loved her, that he would make sure that it would all be okay, as she was lulled into a sort of half-sleep. 

But her peace didn’t last long; she was awoken with urgent, scorching pain. It was screaming at her, telling her that she had no right to peace. She couldn’t help the moans of pain that exited her mouth before she had fully woken up. 

“Hermione,” Ron said groggily. Then more frantically: “are you alright?”

Her body was on fire, and she felt the familiar need to get to the toilet as soon as possible. She hastily stood to rush to the loo, but before she could take two steps, she collapsed. 

* * *

“Hermione,” Ron shouted. She was lying motionless on the floor, her skin grey and cold. “Hermione,” he shouted again as he picked her up. “Help,” yelled, hoping that one of their guards could hear him. “Please help,” he whimpered. 

Mel rushed into their room, her wand at the ready. She took a moment to assess that there was no immediate danger before rushing to Ron’s side and checking for Hermione's pulse. 

“What happened?”, she asked while performing assessing spells over Hermione’s body. 

“She just collapsed. She was groaning and stood up, and then she just collapsed,” he said. “Oh Merlin, please let her be okay.”

Mel nodded. “She’s fainted,” she confirmed. “She's okay, Ron.” Mel put a reassuring hand on Ron’s back before cast a reviving spell on Hermione. She immediately opened her eyes, coughing and breathing heavily as she did. 

“Hermione,” Ron said, relieved that she was awake. She was still grey and groaning in pain, but she was awake. 

“Let me get my bag,” Mel said. “I should have something for pain in there.” 

Mel quickly returned with her medi-bag, fishing through its contents to find what she needed. Hermione hadn’t said a word, but her eyes were wide and bug-like. Ron couldn’t tell if it was due to fear or pain, but nevertheless, he held her tight, telling her it would all be okay.

Mel found the right vials and forcefully held them to Hermione's mouth until she swallowed. It wasn’t moments later that Hermione was out again, though Mel reassured Ron, telling him it was from the effects of the sleeping drought and pain potion she gave her. 

Ron moved Hermione back to the bed as Mel questioned him about Hermione's predicament. Ron explained that it had happened before, but he wasn’t sure if she had ever fainted. They decided that they would wait and see how Hermione was doing, and if she got worse, they would take her to the nearest magical hospital. 

Mel stayed with Ron, and they both kept an eye on Hermione's sleeping form. Ron was antsy, unable to sit still and wait calmly. He hated her parents, he hated what they did to her; how they treated her. He wanted desperately to go over to their house and give them a piece of his mind. 

When he was sitting, he stewed over this possibility, even whilst eating the slightly cold pizza Mel had ordered. When he was standing, he paced, worried about Hermione’s health and well-being. 

After hours of this, he had had enough and asked if Miro could escort him back to the Grangers. Hermione still had hours of sleeping draught left in her, and he made Mel promise him that she would alert Ron if she awoke. 

He spent the drive thinking of all of the things he would tell the Grangers, though most of his thoughts were hard to decipher between the generous use of expletives. He marched up to their front door, not concerned about their neighbours seeing him as the sun was beginning to rise. However, as he went to pound on the door, he lost his nerve. His own thoughts had been replaced with Hermione’s and her disappointment with his decision. Yelling at them wouldn’t help the situation, and it certainly wouldn’t help her. And that was what was most important to him; her. 

He went to leave, and head back down their drive, ready to chalk the whole thing up to lack of sleep and stress, when he had an idea. While Hermione and Ron knew where the Grangers lived, and how to reach them, the Grangers did not know the same for Hermione. He reached into his jacket pocket, recalling the hotel’s business card he had placed there when they arrived. 

  
It was still in his pocket, though slightly crumpled, and had the address and phone number of the hotel. He used his wand to add a note;  _ the burrow _ , on the back. That way they would know how to contact her in Australia and in England. He pushed the card under their front door before he left. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- A big thanks to romioneB for betaing this chapter! Go check out their work, it's fantastic! A couple of notes on the previous chapter. Firstly, I know it wasn't the happy reunion everyone wanted :( . There is still some tough stuff that our trio has to go through, but there will be a light at the end of the tunnel. Secondly, nightwing2013 brought up an important note, that Ron only put the burrow as an address for Hermione's parents to contact them. I assumed (and as did Ron) that because Hermione had spent so many summers there, that her parents have the address and are able to contact her if they want.
> 
> Anyway, happy Saturday! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> ~Dot

Hermione was finding it harder and harder to wake up each morning, and due to that, she found herself spending most of her time on the lumpy camp bed in Ginny's room. Since returning from Australia, her nightmares had tripled and pain followed each one. Her pain had changed, though it had not dissipated one bit. Instead of overwhelming nausea and pain that radiated through her muscles and reminded her of a weak cruciatus curse, now it felt as though her scars were on fire. Her arm and neck scars were the most prominent, feeling as though they were submerged in fire, but her other scars stung as well; even the ones that had long since healed. It was like she had phantom cuts, opening and reopening and piercing every inch of her. She was barely getting more than a couple hours of sleep each night and it was to the point that she was _almost_ thankful Ron had scheduled her an appointment with a healer for the end of the week.

It had been the first thing he had done when they landed at the burrow after their exhausting trip from Australia. He had found his mum's tattered and worn address book and promptly sent an owl to his childhood healer and although that healer did not accept adults, he scheduled her with one who did. The minutes until her appointment were ticking by painstakingly slow. As much as she did not want to go to a healer, after her episode in Australia she knew that she couldn't procrastinate any longer.

In Australia when she had awoken from her drought-induced sleep coma, she had begged Ron to go home. Though, when she uttered the word _home,_ her heart had dropped once again; she didn't have a home, not really. When she thought of home, images of the burrow flashed across her mind, but she was only a guest there. She knew that it wouldn't be long before Ginny and Ron flew the coup, and there was no way that she would continue to live there after they left, even if Molly begged her to. She already felt like she was overstaying her welcome. Of course, she also could picture her childhood home, but she had no idea if it was even still standing. Even if it were in pristine shape, she wasn't sure her parents would want her there. Who knows, they might even try to sell it.

So, disregarding the great kindness of the Weasleys, she was homeless. And jobless. And NEWT-less. There was still a bit of muggle money in her savings account, which would last her for a bit. But after that, she was on her own.

She couldn't bear to think of her dismal future as she and Ron packed their things and made their way to the Australian Ministry. The Ministry workers were sad to see the pair go, but after one look at Hermione's dishevelled appearance, they didn't ask any questions.

Ron had taken the job of letting the rest of the Weasleys know what had happened in Australia. She listened to him regale their account while she hid away in Ginny's room, even though she knew she shouldn't. Through the floorboards she could hear their shock and disdain, gasping when Ron explained that they had disowned Hermione. Her stomach flipped at their reaction, partially because she knew they loved her, and would never do the same to her. But the other part of her was scared that they would now treat her differently and would pity her now that she was practically an orphan like Harry. She hated being pitied.

Now, they had been "home" for three days and Hermione was still in bed, as she was most early afternoons. It was becoming a cycle, one she knew she needed to break, but she didn't know what else to do. Life felt so big- so overwhelming- that she couldn't imagine trying to handle it. So, there she laid, procrastinating facing the day, when Ginny swung in in a huff, forcefully shoving her broomstick in her closet.

"Everything okay?", Hermione asked, deciding it was time to get dressed.

"Everything's just fine!", Ginny said shrilly. Hermione was taken aback by Ginny's outburst. Since she had been back, Ginny had been anything but aggressive. She had almost been too calm, and Hermione knew Ginny hadn't wanted to upset her any more than she already was. Hermione began to get dressed, hoping that Ginny's interjection meant that things were going back to normal. "Sorry," she said moments later, "you don't deserve to be yelled at."

Hermione sighed, knowing that Ginny was still treating her like a fragile porcelain doll. Nevertheless, she nodded her head and sat on her freshly made bed. "Is there someone who does?", she asked probingly.

"Yes," Ginny replied pointedly, then, calmly she added: "well...no, not really." She sat on her bed, facing Hermione, and put her head in her hands with a sigh. "I was expecting it, I knew that's what he'd do. But, that doesn't make it any less frustrating. I shouldn't be mad at him; he's Harry, after all. He's always got to save the bloody day. I just don't know how I'm going to do it again; waiting and hoping that he's fine. Last year fucking sucked, and it won't just be a year this time."

Hermione listened to Ginny's rant feeling perplexed. She wasn't quite sure what the other woman was going on about. Ginny didn't seem like she was going to explain further as she stood up and vacillated between throwing old quidditch magazines off of her bedside table and huffing dramatically.

"Gin," Hermione said cautiously, "what exactly did Harry do?"

Ginny turned to face Hermione mid-throw. "Oh," she said as if it was obvious, "he's joining the Aurors."

"Oh," Hermione replied. She had almost forgotten about their Auror invitations; she was actually doing her best to avoid thinking about her future at all. Though, she had been quite certain that Harry would join. Even if he didn't seem too excited at the prospect, it was still what he wanted to do with his life. Hermione also knew that he wasn't the only one with that career goal; it was also Ron's greatest ambition.

The thought of Ron being an Auror, of his life being in danger and Hermione not being there terrified her. She could imagine what it would be like, spending her days waiting to hear news of him, of missed owls and staying up all night with worry; it would be terrible. And Ginny was right, it wouldn't just be for a year.

As far as she knew, Auror training lasted around three years, so even if Ron and Harry's class was expedited, they would likely still be gone for close to that time. She knew training was tough, with Aurors spending months away from home at a time and, of course, once that was over it wouldn't be much better. Sure, they would come home each night, but the danger they experienced would be much greater.

Suddenly she wanted to scream and cry and fling herself into Ron's arms, begging him to never leave her and anchoring herself to the ground so he couldn't. But she knew that wasn't realistic, he was his own person with his own life and she couldn't stop him from living it, no matter how much she felt like she needed him.

It was a lesson that kept occurring in Hermione's life; as many friends and family as one may have, in the end, everyone is ultimately alone. She needed to talk to Ron, to rip the plaster off so to speak. She needed to know unequivocally what he was planning to do, but more than that, she needed to plan what _she_ was going to do.

She listened to Gin rant and rave while trying to give her reassurances, though her mind was somewhere else entirely. She _had_ to make a plan, and she had to do it soon.

* * *

Hermione was taking her sweet time, knowing that she should go down to lunch, especially because she missed breakfast. However, she couldn't seem to make her feet move faster. Molly was back to spending most of her day in the kitchen, making meals that were much too large for the small group currently residing at the burrow. Even George was out and about. While he still spent most of his time holed up in his room, he did make it down for most meals. It seemed like everyone was starting to heal; to do better. Everyone except her.

Her plan hadn't come any further than the day when she decided she needed to make it. There were many things that she needed to do. But, like her escapade to lunch, she couldn't seem to take the first step. She needed to check on her family home to at least make sure that it was still standing, though that would require enlisting the help of Aurors and she had no motivation to contact them. She needed to get her savings to see just how dire her financial situation was, which would require going to the bank, and the nearest branch that she knew of was in London. Then there was the bigger stuff, the life-changing decision stuff. Should she go back to Hogwarts? If she didn't, she would likely resign herself to waitressing or something similar for the rest of her life. She knew she needed to go, but she struggled to imagine herself there after all that had happened.

Whenever she thought of Hogwarts, she no longer pictured the good times; the shenanigans the trio had gotten into, her good scores, and the amazing puddings. No, now all she could think of was bloodstains, destruction, and death. How could she possibly spend an entire year there? Thoughts of joining the Aurors so that she could be with Ron and Harry entered her mind, but she laughed them off. If she wanted to avoid death and destruction, joining the Aurors was no place for her. She was lost in her thoughts, and fears, of her future when Ron entered her room, startling her out of her reflection.

"Hey", Ron said cautiously. It was the best word to describe how he had been acting around her since they returned; cautious. He seemed to always be afraid of saying the wrong thing, so he chose to barely talk at all. As much as she liked just having him there without the need to talk, she missed his conversations and humorous antics. She missed _him_. God, everything would have been so much better if she had left well enough alone. Her parents were happy as Monica and Wendell, and Ron and Hermione had been happy before. At least as happy as they could have been, considering their situation.

"I have a question for you," he said, rubbing his arm and avoiding her eye contact.

What is it?", Hermione inquired, wishing he would just look at her.

"It's George," Ron said, finally looking up. When he saw the fear in Hermione's eyes he quickly added: "he's fine. More than fine, actually. He wants to go check out his shop and the flat. It's already been checked, safety-wise so he's planning to tidy it up a bit; banish the doxies and all that."

"Oh," Hermione said, confused as to why Ron seemed so anxious to tell her that. "That's good."

"Yeah", Ron agreed. "He wants me to come help him. It'll just be for the afternoon," he added quickly.

"Okay," Hermione half-stated, half-questioned. She still wasn't sure why this was causing him distress, except for his disdain for cleaning.

"Yeah?", he asked. "You'll be okay? I don't have to go."

"Me?", Hermione questioned.

"Ginny and Harry'll be here, I checked. You won't be alone."

Hermione stared at him. He was worried about leaving her, about what she would do if she were without him. He had barely left her side in the last week. Was she really that volatile; so fragile that she couldn't be trusted to be on her own anymore?

"I'll be fine," Hermione said, doing her best at a reassuring smile. "In fact," she said, wanting him to know that she was just fine, "I think I'll ask Harry and Ginny to go into town with me."

"Yeah?", Ron smiled slightly, seeming to be falling for her act.

"Yeah", Hermione said more determinedly. "Ottery St Catchpole has been covered in safety enchantments and we'll only be gone for a few. It'll be good to get out of the house."

"That's a good plan," he said, reaching over to kiss her forehead. "It will be good for all of us to get out for a bit. You'll let mum know when you go? And you'll let me know if anything goes awry?"

"Yes, of course", Hermione said, standing to kiss him on the lips.

"Love you," Ron said, after reluctantly tearing his lips from hers.

"Love you too."

* * *

Harry said he wasn't up to going to town, but Ginny had heartily agreed, excited to leave what she called the "bad vibes" of the burrow. Apparently, Harry had been in a mood since he told Ginny of his future plans. Really, he'd been in a mood since the battle, but he was now appearing to be doing worse. Ginny told her of his foul moods, outbursts, and general grumpiness on their way to the centre of town. Finally, she stopped her ranting as they began to window shop. It was just how Hermione remembered it, littered with Tudor-style brick storefronts and thatched roofs. Though one thing had notably changed since she had last been there. A small bank had replaced the corner shop which had inhabited that space for as long as she could remember. When they got closer, Hermione was able to read the neon green sign affront it. As luck would have it, it was the same branch that her parents belonged to.

This was it; it was written in the stars; her first step was to retrieve the rest of her savings. From there, she would be able to decide if she could find her own place and start working, or if she had to go back to Hogwarts. It would be her first step in planning the rest of her life. She told Ginny of her plan and shuffled through her beaded bag, searching for the false ID she had created to get into her savings account last time. She found it, and after a thorough and curious examination of it by Ginny, they entered the bank.

The bank was nearly empty, with only one person in line in front of them. She was an older woman who looked like she had just gotten out of bed, her hair still in curlers and fuzzy slippers on her feet. Though when she turned back, Hermione was surprised to see that the woman had a full face of makeup. When Ginny and Hermione made it to the teller, Hermione handed her the fake ID. The teller hemmed and hawed while clicking her fake nails obnoxiously on the keyboard. Hermione was momentarily worried that her ID had not passed scrutinization, as it was taking much longer than last time. Finally, the teller printed something out and addressed Hermione.

"How much do you want to deposit?" she asked.

"Deposit?" Hermione asked. "No, I want to do a withdrawal."

"Well, you're going to have a hard time doing that, chicken," the teller stated.

"What do you mean?", Hermione asked, sensing heat rise in her face.

"This account is empty," the teller said matter-of-factly, "it was emptied two days ago."

"That's not possible," Hermione said, shocked. "Please, check again."

"I've checked three times," the teller responded. "It was completely emptied by the primary account holder from our sister bank in Australia."

"Australia?', Hermione asked weakly. The room seemed to be spinning. Her parents had taken the money; they didn't want her to have it. They didn't want _her._ If anything was a sign saying that they never wanted to speak to her again, this was it.

Somehow, Ginny helped her get back to the burrow in her disoriented state and she dragged herself up the stairs, breaking into sobs the second her head hit her pillow.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N You know how I said it was going to get worse before it got better (did I say that?) well...
> 
> CW: blood
> 
> ~Dot

When Ron found Hermione curled up in bed, sobbing and distraught, he immediately scooped her up in his arms and held her until she fell asleep. They stayed like that until the sun rose, the light shining through the spaces in the curtain, telling them it was a new day. After they awoke, Ron convinced Hermione to get up for breakfast; something she hadn't done for days. She reluctantly agreed, not wanting to make Ron more concerned for her than he already was. Hermione was sure that he blamed himself for her misfortune—if he hadn't left with George to clean, then perhaps all would be better.

However, Hermione knew this was not the case. She told him so the night before when she explained that her savings account had been emptied by her parents; that she had nothing, and no one, to rely on. He, of course, argued this, stating that _he_ would always be there for her, that she had a family—the Weasleys, and she would never be alone. She had nodded and listened to his desperate plea as her mind wandered. He was going to join the Aurors, though he hadn't said for sure, and Harry would join the Aurors, and Ginny would go to Hogwarts or pursue a quidditch career. She _would_ be alone.

Ron stayed by her side for the rest of the morning. He seemed anxious, but Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on why. She assumed it was because of her misfortune, but she couldn't tell for sure. Eventually, when they were cleaning up after lunch, he leaned over and whispered that he wanted to talk to her. He assured her that everything was fine—good—even. It was just something he wanted to tell her before anyone else. She felt the oxygen leave her body at the prospect of this important information he wanted to tell her.

She quickly went to head up the stairs to talk to him when she was stopped by another person coming down.

"Fancy a game, little brother?", George asked Ron, tumbling down the staircase with a smile flashing on his face. He was holding a dust-covered chessboard. Hermione had never seen it before, but she did notice it had the tell-tale WWW magenta and orange colours on it. She looked back at Ron, and he made a face which asked if it was okay. Hermione nodded, not wanting to prolong their talk any longer, but also knowing that it was a rare sight to see George outside of meals and that it would be good for him to play a game or two.

George began to set up the board, explaining that it was a special board and that he might have an actual chance of beating Ron. This invigorated Ron, having not lost a game since he was 12, and he rushed to question George about it. Harry took a front-row seat on the couch next to the board and Ginny sat so near to him that she was practically on his lap. Hermione smiled looking at her friends, it was almost as if things were back to normal. She paused by the staircase, taking in the moment.

Though, as she went to join them, she was rudely made aware that things were not normal. Her arm began to sting, as it had been doing repeatedly over the past week. Tomorrow was her healer appointment, and she finally could admit that she wanted to go. She was so frustrated with her near-constant pain and lack of sleep, she could scream. She hoped against all hope that the healer would do just that, _heal_ her.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and, in turn, her pain. Instead of helping, her deep breathing seemed to make it worse, the extra oxygen stinging her throat. She gripped the staircase mantle next to her, trying not to fall from the pain as she was suddenly feeling dizzy. The pain spread to her neck, and she instinctively clasped her hand on the spot. She could hear her friend's laughter, suddenly sounding a million miles away. She moved her hand away from her neck and noticed it was covered in blood. At that moment, she saw that her left arm was also bleeding. It had been hard to see through Ron's maroon sweater that she was wearing, but now it was clear that it was covered in blood.

The lightheaded feeling she had felt earlier reared its ugly head, and she stumbled, no longer feeling the support of her legs. She needed to shout to her friends, to tell them that something was _very wrong_ , but she couldn't find her voice. Internally, she screamed for Ron, hoping that he could somehow sense her. He was mere feet away, but his back was turned from her, too engrossed in his game.

She felt a stabbing pain on her back, and then another, and then another. A tiny gasp escaped her mouth as she fell to her knees. Finally, she heard Ron calling out for her. Her vision was starting to go black as he grabbed her, his blue eyes the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness.

* * *

"Oh Merlin, someone help!", Ron desperately shouted. "Help her!"

Hermione was ragged in his arms and covered in blood. How had this happened? _When_ had this happened? He had only been away from her for a bloody second, how could she have been attacked? She hadn't made a sound. If it wasn't for him feeling her heartbeat race in his watch, he would never have known that something was wrong.

He laid her down and went to grab her hand, but stopped when he noticed that his hand (which had just been on her back) was now seeping with blood. He hastily took off her sweater and was almost sick when he saw the extent of her injuries. Her once-white vest showed just how much of her was bleeding. Her arm and her neck were the worst of it, but the rest of her was covered in small cuts, each one bleeding more than the last. He watched in horror as cuts seemed to appear out of nowhere, covering her forehead and scalp.

"Where's the healer?", he screamed. It felt like it had been aeons since he had discovered her. He could hear others shouting and talking to him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. All he could focus on was Hermione. What in the bloody hell was going on? He almost went to pinch himself; this was much more in line with his nightmares than reality. He felt someone near him, leaning down to touch Hermione. He looked up to see that it was his mum, trying to put pressure on her cuts with pieces of a tea towel. He took a piece of fabric from her and placed it on Hermione's neck, where she seemed to be bleeding the heaviest.

The was commotion behind him, likely the healer arriving, but Ron didn't dare look away from Hermione. Her belly was still moving with breath. He was sure, as kept his eyes trained on her middle. But, there were moments when it paused its movement, and Ron felt his own breath stop, a burning in his chest expanding until she took another broken breath. However, she hadn't breathed for too many moments now, and Ron froze, fearing the worst. Then, she took a great, big, heaving breath. It was so large that she almost sat up, her eyes bugged-eyed and wide.

Ron forgot about putting pressure on her neck and reached for her face, wanting to tell her it was all alright—wanting to feel the warmth of her face and know that it would all be alright. Their eyes met briefly before Hermione let out a terrible scream and clutched her chest. She fell back again, unconscious, and her arm fell at her side, revealing what she had been clutching. Too slowly, blood appeared on her chest in a spiral shape, only stopping once it had covered the entirety of her chest.

Ron was screaming now, though he wasn't completely aware of the fact. He felt arms on him, trying to pull him away from her, but he wouldn't budge. They were telling him things, shouting at him, but he was not able to process what they were saying. More arms appeared around him and, together, the arms were able to pull him off of her. He kicked and screamed until he felt something being pushed into his mouth. He was forced to swallow the foul-tasting liquid and immediately felt calm as it rushed down his throat. No, calm wasn't the right word; empty perhaps; placated. He no longer felt like he was being ripped apart by terror; like he could kick or scream or punch. Now, he felt nothing.

He forced himself to focus, to become aware of his surroundings. He was still in the burrow, sitting on a chair that had been pulled from the dining table, its stiff wooden back poking his shoulders. Ginny was seated across from him, though she was bent forward and Harry was sitting next to her, patting her back with an irregular rhythm while staring blankly into space. He looked around, Bill was there, as was George. They were both standing, looking lost. His mum was wandering around hastily, but randomly, seeming to need to do something, but not knowing what it was she needed to do.

Her apron was red, and for a moment, Ron was confused. He couldn't remember his mum having a red apron. There was the one she wore the most often, it was stained and battered, though at one time was cream coloured with a lace border. He strained to think of the other aprons he had seen her wear. There was the green plaid one she only wore during the holidays and the one that he and his siblings had given her one Christmas, with each of their tiny, child-sized handprints adorning it. And… that was it. She didn't have a red apron.

With a start, he was reminded why he was there; what was going on. His mum _was_ wearing her cream coloured apron, though instead of chocolate and pie-filling stains, it was now stained with blood. Hermione's blood. He looked down at his lap, seeing the same blood covering him. He looked around again, suddenly seeing everything more clearly. Ginny was sobbing into her hands. Bill, too, was covered in blood. His dad was sitting on the staircase, looking almost as ghostly and pale as he did when they visited him in hospital after he was attacked by Nagini. Next to his dad was a group of people; healers, and they were surrounding Hermione's listless body.

One of the healers moved away from Hermione, headed to their fireplace, and floo'd away. She moved with intense speed, but even from the momentary flash of her face that Ron saw, he could tell she was concerned.

"What's going on?", Ron barely croaked, his throat sore and scratchy.

Bill thankfully heard him and sat in the chair next to Ron, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"They've gone to get a special healer; one that can help her better," Bill said calmly, talking slowly as if Ron was a toddler.

Ron only nodded his head, the effects of whatever potion that had been forced down his throat not allowing him to feel the gravity of Bill's statement. Time seemed to move extra slowly, even his own body moving like he was trapped in feet of molasses. All he wanted to do was to go to Hermione; to see her; to touch her; to tell her he loved her, but his feet refused to listen to him. Eventually, the healer that had left returned, with healer after healer following her through the flames. They were all moving with haste, carrying all different sorts of medical equipment, the likes of which Ron had never seen.

He shifted his seat slightly so that he could see Hermione through a crack between the wall of Healers. They were frantically moving around, connecting her to different receptacles and taking orders from one of the newer arrivals. Finally, they all stopped and stepped away from Hermione's body. Ron could feel himself shaking. It was bad enough when they were moving like they had ants in their pants, but them not moving was much worse.

He stared in terror as the new healer waved her wand over Hermione's body. After the healer cast her spell, Hermione's blood began to flow even faster out of her cuts, pouring out of her like a waterfall. Ron stood, terrified that she would have no blood left. As he did, Hermione's body lifted off the ground, and a green mist forced itself out of her mouth, flaming above her mouth for a moment and then disappearing into the ether, and Hermione's body fell back to the floor with a small thud.

If Ron had thought that the healers were moving fast before, it was nothing like now. Each one appeared to have a job and had to do that job as quickly as possible. Some were on her body, wrapping her still-bleeding cuts with blue-glowing bandages. Others were connecting vials and floating bags to her body through small tubes. She was connected to apparatuses that beeped and hollered. Once the nimble healers slowed down, the healer who Ron had deduced was in charge led them to put her body on a stretcher and, in a flash, they were gone, taking Hermione's lifeless body with them.


	27. Chapter 27

Hermione woke with a start, momentarily confused by her surroundings. It was pitch black, and she could _just_ make out large, lumpy, ghostly-shaped figures around her. She had no clue where she was, but she could tell that she was lying in a horribly stiff bed. As she tried to move, she noticed tubes crisscrossing over her body, keeping her from going far. In her attempt to get up, she let out a tiny squeak, as her entire body throbbing and sore.

Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness and she started to make out the shapes around her. The ghostly figures were people—people she knew. To her left was a sound asleep Ginny. She was sitting upright in a chair with her head tilted back and her mouth emitting a light snore. To her right was Ron, or at least that's who Hermione assumed the man was. He was slumped forward on a chair with his entire upper body face-down on her bed and his arms outstretched towards her. The man gave a large snort and began to snore not-so-lightly, which made Hermione sure that he was Ron. At the far end of the room was Harry, his eyes meeting hers as she looked up at him. He stood up and quietly walked over, taking her hand in his when he made it to her bedside.

As she took Harry's hand, she noticed that her hand was covered in a bandage and had a small tube protruding out of it. Her eyes followed where it was connected to and saw a floating clear-plastic bag filled with a red substance at the opposite end. She looked at herself and focused on the machinery around her. There were multiple tiny tubes attached to various parts of her, leading to floating liquid-filled bags and monitors beeping and grunting, keeping track of what Hermione assumed was her heart rate and other bodily functions. She was in a hospital; likely Saint Mungo's considering that the bags were floating on their own accord and, even though she was attached to machines, the machines seemed slightly _off._ They were floating too, and much too small to fit a battery pack in. She desperately flipped through her memories to try to remember what landed her there. But, before she could find the offending memories, Ginny woke with a start.

"Hermione," she nearly shouted, not waking Ron (though that was unsurprising, as he was an intensely heavy sleeper). "How are you feeling? Are you okay?"

Hermione surveyed her body, trying to come up with an accurate answer to Ginny's surprisingly difficult question. While she was sore and fatigued, and her body protested as she sat up, that was it; there was no crucio-like pain and her scars were no longer stung. She looked down at her left arm and saw it was wrapped tightly in a bandage. Suddenly, images of the evening before flashed through her head. She remembered her scars stinging and then discovering they were bleeding. And then… the rest was fuzzy, she could picture Ron staring at her in fear, random healers conjuring spells over her body, and an intense panic like she had never felt before.

"What happened?", she asked.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other with concern, neither speaking.

"I'll go get a healer," Ginny said finally. "They'll want to know you're awake."

Neither Harry nor Ginny talked to her as a healer asked Hermione question after question ( _What is your full name? When is your birthday? Who is the Minister for Magic?)_ and ran her wand over Hermione's body. Finally, she finished, saying she would update Hermione's primary healer, who would check in with Hermione as soon as she could.

"What happened?", Hermione repeated more intently as soon as the door closed behind the healer.

Harry sighed, likely knowing that she wouldn't let them _not_ explain, and took her hand again, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Well," Harry started, "we don't have all of the information- ". Hermione went to protest, but he raised his hand up to quiet her. "But, we'll do our best to explain."

Hermione nodded her head, desperate to know what had happened.

"They think it had to do with our time at Malfoy Manor," he said cautiously. "The healer explained that curses act sorta like a virus; the magical residue of each one builds up in the body, and the body does its best to push it out. The more dark curses someone has been hit with, the more residue is in the body, and the harder the body has to work."

Hermione peered closely at Harry. She was vaguely aware of this and remembered "Mad-eye" explaining something similar in their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Though, she also remembered that he said that there was no saying for how the body could react. Most likely, at least with the cruciatus curse, it was the brain that suffered. The mix of trauma and the body fighting to get the curse out often left survivors of multiple cruciatus curses with diminished brain activity or even brain death. But, she had suffered from neither and had assumed that she had avoided that side-effect, since her mind seemed intact. She couldn't remember reading about anyone experiencing anything like she had.

"With you," Harry continued, "and how many times you were hit with the _cruciatus_ curse," he whispered the word, "well, you had it pretty bad."

"They said you were hit at least 17 times?", Ginny blurted.

Hermione nodded her head, though she had no idea if this was true. She certainly hadn't been counting. Though 17 seemed excessive, she hadn't heard of anyone surviving more than 10 in one sitting.

Ginny clasped her hand over her mouth at Hermione's confirmation.

"Erm," Harry stuttered, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. "They said you had likely been in a load of pain since the incident, based on the way that they found you yesterday."

"Yes," Hermione agreed solemnly. "Ron had made an appointment for me to see a healer for—well—today."

Harry nodded his head, but Ginny didn't seem to accept Hermione's explanation.

"The whole time?", Ginny asked. "Why didn't you tell us, we could have helped."

"I know," Hermione said, avoiding their eyes. "I know, I only told Ron a few days ago," she added as if that made it better.

Harry squeezed her hand, causing her to look back at them. "So, what happened last night?"

"Well, they didn't know at first," Harry explained. "You were bleeding, and bleeding, and bleeding, and they couldn't stop it," he moved his gaze away from her.

"It was terrifying," Ginny added.

Harry nodded his head in agreement and continued: "eventually they got a special healer—one that specializes in dark magic. She figured out that it was because of all of the curses you experienced—your body was trying to push it out through your old scars. The curse residue was mixed with your blood and it forced its way out of any scars that you had, even long healed ones. It didn't matter if it was a magically caused scar or one you got when you were little, from tripping or something, it just had to get out."

"Did it all come out, do you know? Are the curses gone?", Hermione asked meekly.

"That was the issue, they weren't able to stop the bleeding until it was all gone. And the rate that you were bleeding, you wouldn't have made it. So they sped up the process."

"She made you bleed so fast," Ginny said. "And then, all of a sudden, you were floating and a giant green _thing_ came out of your mouth," Ginny motioned her hands to demonstrate what Hermione had looked like. "And then, it was over."

"So I don't have any more curses in me?", Hermione repeated her question.

"Not as far as they can tell," Harry reassured. "They said you'd be tired and sore, and probably need another week's worth of blood-replenishing potion on top of the loads they've given you, but you should be fine."

"Really?", Hermione asked, feeling tears pricking her eyes. _It was all over._ She would never have to experience that pain anymore. It was more than she ever expected—it _almost_ made up for her parents disowning her. Maybe everything would be okay.

The healer assigned to her case came in and examined her, repeating what Harry and Ginny had told her. They would keep her for another couple hours of observation, then she could go. She could take the blood replenishing potion home with her and, as long as she was doing okay, she would have an appointment with her healer in a month or so to check on her progress.

When the healer left, slamming the door slightly, Ron _finally_ woke up. He was startled at first, likely confused by his surroundings. But, as soon as he laid eyes on Hermione, he collapsed, folding his arms around her as he did. Ginny and Harry took this as their cue to check out the cafeteria, patting Hermione on the shoulder as they left.

"I thought I was going to lose you," an anguished Ron whispered as soon as the other couple had left. He was still tightly squeezing Hermione.

"I know," Hermione said. "But I'm here, and I'm _better."_ She said the last word with a smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?", Ron asked, pulling his head back so they were face-to-face.

"Promise," Hermione said, as Ron brushed his hand down her cheek.

"I don't know what I'd do…", Ron started, but Hermione stopped him, planting her lips tenderly on his.

"Me neither," she said between desperate kisses.

This seemed to placate Ron, as when they were done, he no longer looked distraught, but instead he looked hopeful. "You're my everything, Hermione," he said.

Hermione agreed with a smile. "I love you," she said, kissing him again. She felt lighter, brighter. Finally, she felt like she could begin to plan her future—their future, together.

* * *

Her three friends stayed with her until she was released from hospital and brought back with a warm welcome from the rest of the Weasleys. They carefully hugged her and told her how glad they were that she was okay. Though, she was quickly rushed off to bed by Mrs Weasley, stating that she needed her rest. Hermione tried to avoid looking at the spot she had almost died as she walked up the stairs, but failed. Though she was glad to see that all of her blood had been cleaned away.

She was only in her and Ginny's room for a moment before Ron apparated in with her.

"Hey," Ron said shyly, brushing his hand through his hair. "I wanted to make sure you were okay, I know you're not a fan of resting."

Hermione smiled. "Normally, you're right," she agreed. "But, I am actually quite knackered." She was amazed that she was able to walk up the stairs, her body was so exhausted. "I'm sure you are too," she added, knowing that he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

"A bit," he said with a smirk.

"I don't know if Ginny's coming…," Hermione started.

"She's not," Ron said abruptly. Hermione looked at him curiously and he added: "I—erm—asked."

"Oh," Hermione said, turning to fluff a pillow so he couldn't see the grin on her face. "Would you like to join me, I could enlarge the bed a bit."

"I'd love that," Ron said into her ear. While she was much too sore and tired to do anything besides sleep, she knew it would be nice to have company. Plus, she desperately missed his cuddles.

"Great," she said, magically enlarging the bed. They both climbed in, making sure to lock and silence the room as they did, just in case.

Hermione was lying on her back and Ron gingerly wrapped his arms around her waist, trying not to hurt her as he did. She curled into him, turning slightly so she could hold him too.

"Ron," she said. Ron mumbled, seeming to be close to falling asleep. "What was it that you wanted to tell me yesterday?"

"Oh," he said with a jolt. "I'd almost forgotten."

Hermione looked up at him, now feeling wide away with apprehension of what he was going to say.

"I've been talking to George," he started. "And, well, it looks like he is going to reopen his shop soon."

"That's great," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "The thing is, he doesn't think he can do it alone. And he's asked me to help him; to be co-owner."

"Oh," Hermione said, feeling slightly surprised.

Ron nodded his head. "I was shocked too," he said with a smile. "But, I've thought a lot about it, and I've decided to take him up on it."

"Really?", Hermione asked. "That's great, Ron," she added enthusiastically. "What about the Aurors? I thought that was what you wanted to do?"

"Yeah, well I'm a bit different than I was at 16," he said. "And I can join at any time; Kingsley's offers good if I change my mind. But, I'm not sure I will. It doesn't sound as thrilling as it used to."

"I understand," Hermione said. "I think my aspirations have changed a bit over the years, too. Have you told Harry? How did he take it?"

"I told him last night," Ron said. "He seemed disappointed, but I think he understands. He's not too thrilled about leaving Gin, either. Though she'll be at Hogwarts, anyway."

Ron had given her a perfect segway for her to tell him what her plans were. She sighed, deciding she might as well tell him the truth. "I don't know what I want to do," she admitted.

Ron nodded his head, not questioning her or acting surprised that the woman who had a plan for everything had no idea what she wanted to do with her life.

"If George hadn't offered me the job," Ron said, "I don't think I would know either. I still don't, I just know what I'll be doing in the near future."

Hermione felt tears running down her face and placed her head on Ron's chest. "I know I _should_ go back to Hogwarts, but..." she started.

"Yeah, I feel the same way— _but."_ Ron said _. "_ Join the Aurors, _but_ you'll be in danger and it won't at all be like you expected. Go to Hogwarts, _but_ all you'll be able to see is your brother's dead body every time you walk through the corridors. Get a job, _but_ you have no experience and you have no idea what you want to do."

"Exactly," Hermione exclaimed. "That's _exactly_ how I feel." It was wonderful to talk to someone who understood her trepidation. She admonished herself for not talking to him sooner.

"I guess the war fucked us up in more ways than one," Ron joked.

"Mmmhmm," Hermione agreed with a smile.

"At least we don't have to decide right now," Ron said. "Even though it kinda feels like we do."

"You're right," Hermione agreed on both points.

"Aren't I always?", Ron smirked. Hermione lightly tickled his chest, before cuddling closer and closing her eyes. Just before she was about to drift off, Ron called her name.

"Yes Ron?", she asked sleepily.

"Since I'll have some money soon," he said tentatively, "I can probably find my own place. I know Harry's thinking about moving into Grimmauld place and he's got extra rooms. But he won't be 'round much with the Aurors, and frankly, that place gives me the creeps. And, anyway, if you wanted to—that is, I thought it would be nice if we could, maybe, if you'd like, we could move in together?", Ron stammered.

Hermione sat up and looked Ron squarely in the eyes. "I'd like that very much," she said. "I'd like very much to move in with you, Ronald Weasley."


	28. Chapter 28

Since the "incident", as Hermione called it, Hermione hadn't had another moment of pain. Physically, she was doing better; she was eating more and sleeping better. She was still having nightmares occasionally, but they were almost completely gone now that she was sneaking into Ron's bed each night. Mentally, well, she wasn't tip-top, but she was immensely less stressed and felt like she was beginning to accept her parent's wishes.

They hadn't written or tried to contact Hermione since she left them almost a month ago. Ron had admitted to telling them that she was at the burrow and writing letters to them himself. He had been sending them old papers outlining the terror that the wizarding world had been undergoing as well as articles that described just how much Hermione had done. His hope was that, with more explanation, her parents would be able to understand her side and forgive her. He had also given their address to Molly, who did not write to them as kindly as he did. Even with all of this effort, they had not replied.

On her second night after her return from hospital, she decided she wanted to spend her nights with Ron. She was an adult, gosh darn it, and she should be able to do what she liked. After reality hit, she decided that sneaking around wasn't that bad (after all, she had become a pro after her time at Hogwarts). Harry didn't mind switching spots with her, and while they never went too far, (she was too afraid of being caught) their snogging and cuddling sessions were just what she needed. Of course, being the teens that they were, when that didn't suffice, their secluded spot in the woods did just fine.

Since she was doing better, Ron had given himself permission to spend _some_ time away from her. He, along with Lee, Angela, Alicia, and Verity, were helping George prepare his shop for opening. George wanted to have it ready by August, so he could catch the school rush. Ron was now convinced that he wanted to work at WWW, and would tell Hermione each night all about the gadgets and gizmos he had seen at the shop.

With Ron and George gone most of the day, and Ginny and Harry typically otherwise deposed, Hermione was spending a lot more time on her own. While, at first, she was a bit lonely, she eventually remembered what she did when she was feeling that way; read. It hit her just how much she had missed reading. She hadn't read for fun since before the war, and now she wasn't able to stop. She read classics, reread her favourites, and found new ones in a dusty, old bookshelf at the burrow. However, she wasn't just reading for fun, she was also reading for business. Literally. She found as many books as she could about wizarding careers and occupations, analysing each page to decipher if she had found what she wanted to do. She hadn't decided yet, but at least she felt like she had an idea of her future. Now, she had almost gone through her entire collection, and she would need to restock soon. She had been promised a full library when they moved into Grimmauld Place, and she was preparing to fill it to the brim.

Harry had gotten more persistent about moving into Grimmauld Place. Hermione assumed that he was getting tired of sneaking around with Ginny, both to practice quidditch and to practice other things… Though it was unlikely that Molly would allow Ginny to move in with Harry, even with Ron and Hermione there. However, she could still visit and once she turned 17, there wasn't much that Molly could do.

Hermione was looking forward to no longer sneaking around too, and having a full-sized bed to share with Ron. The four of them agreed to move in ASAP, as long as they could do some tidying first. It wasn't anyone's favourite place, but Hermione hoped that some new furniture and a fresh coat of paint could help liven it up a bit. It felt like they were finally moving forward, even though Hermione considered that she had no idea where exactly forward was.

* * *

"Hey Hermione," Ron whispered as they tucked themselves into Ron's slightly enlarged twin bed.

"Yes?", Hermione asked. Ron seemed to be the most talkative after dark, and Hermione was starting to enjoy their late-night chats. It probably would have frustrated her, if she was at school, when he decided to start a full-blown conversation at midnight. But, she didn't have to wake early, and she relished their time spent together. In fact, he was turning her into a night owl. Especially when he started kissing her neck and they decided to disapparate to their favourite spot.

"You know how we were talking about our futures a while ago," he started, "and you said you weren't sure about going to Hogwarts?"

Hermione nodded. She remembered that conversation vividly, and all the others she had had in her head regarding the same topic.

"Well," he said, "I don't think you're alone. I talked to Gin, and she's not ecstatic about going back." Hermione wondered if Ginny would tell Ron about her quidditch tryouts, as they were coming up, or if she would stick to her guns and only tell everyone else if she got on a team. "And I assume that a lot of 7th years feel the same way. Not just because school is bloody dull," he chuckled.

Hermione overzealously rolled her eyes at his comment but couldn't help the smile that crept up her face.

"Anyway, I wrote to McGonagall–,"

"You what?", Hermione exclaimed.

"What?", Ron asked. "It's not that strange."

Hermione stared at him. He could barely manage to write to her or Harry over the holidays- the idea of him voluntarily writing McGonagall shocked her. Whatever he wrote must have been of utmost importance.

"Alright, alright," Ron said, putting his hands up in surrender. "It's a little strange. But, she's headmistress now, and I thought she could help.

"Help with what?", Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued.

"An alternative–a way to do your NEWTs, without having to go back to school. McGonagall thought it was a good idea. She said she's going to write to all of the seventh years with more information. But, basically, you can get all of the stuff you need, maybe pop in here and there if you have questions, and take the NEWTs with everyone else. You could stay here, if you wanted too. She said it would be tough, but I'm sure you could do it."

"Oh," Hermione said. It hadn't crossed her mind to ask for a different way to do her NEWTs, she hadn't thought it was possible. It would take the stress off of her tremendously, and she would be able to be with Ron. Plus, getting her NEWTs would open more career options. She'd have to think about it, but it sounded like a fantastic idea.

"Thank you," she said earnestly. There was no accurate way to put into words how grateful she was for him; for his support, for his persistence, for his understanding. She guessed she would just have to try and show him instead.

* * *

Hermione hadn't been to Diagon Alley since they had broken into Gringotts, and it had gone through a dramatic transformation. Diagon Alley no longer seemed drab, and each store had been rebuilt and brandished a fresh paint job and new brickwork. Hermione took in the renovated storefronts as she walked with Harry and Ginny through the Alley. The Leaky's door was open, and the smell of fresh pot pie permeated the area around it. Hermione took a long satisfying sniff as she passed by. Ollivanders was open, and early first years lined the wall eagerly awaiting their new wands. Fortescue's was closed, but Flourish and Blott's and Madame Malkins's were open. Hermione ran her finger across the glass front of Flourish and Blotts, trying to read all book titles on display that framed a _Now Hiring_ sign.

Finally, they arrived at their destination. If the rest of Diagon Alley seemed renovated, it barely held a candle to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The bright magenta and orange paint job stood out amongst the other brown and grey storefronts. Today was the soft opening of WWW, and all of George and Ron's family and friends anxiously awaited the doors opening. If the exterior was anything to go by, it would be hard to tell that there ever was a war that had destroyed so much.

At exactly 10, a clock chimed and the front doors opened, sending orange and magenta fireworks off of the top of the building. Past the doors, Ron and George stood beaming at the entrance of the store. Quickly, everyone piled in, acting like children let loose in a candy store. While everyone else went straight for the shelves and products, Hermione went to Ron. Normally, she never would have suggested he wear magenta, but, right now, he looked more handsome than he had in a long time. He was radiating as Hermione threw her arms around him and gave him a chaste kiss.

"This is wonderful," she whispered in his ear. "You've done such a great job."

Ron shook his head gleefully. "Barely did much, it was mostly this man." He patted George on the shoulder.

"Always the modest little brother," George said before he was swept away by a crowd of people wanting to congratulate him.

Harry and Ginny found the couple and Ron decided to give them a tour. "We can start with the new products," he smiled. "Some of which _I_ invented," he boasted.

* * *

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione were waiting for Ron at the Leaky after a very successful opening morning. Each of them had bags of things they bought, and Harry and Ginny were playing a game of exploding snap as they waited. Finally, Ron bustled in, looking exhausted but ecstatic.

"Sorry," he said as he sat next to Hermione and gave her a peck on the cheek, "it took longer to check out customers than I expected."

"Had a good opening day?", Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron exclaimed. "We sold loads. So much so that we may have to push back the official opening day so we can restock everything."

"That's great," Ginny said, bringing her larger up to toast him.

"It's really fantastic," Hermione said, earnestly looking him in the eyes. He looked so elated and proud, a look Hermione hadn't seen on him in a long time. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered in his ear before kissing him on the cheek. All of a sudden, she wished they were no longer in Diagon Alley, and instead in a much more private location.

"I thought," Harry said, causing Hermione and Ron to stop staring lovingly at one another, "that since we're out, it would be a good time to check on Grimmauld Place."

They all agreed that that was a good idea, and after a filling lunch, they headed over to the hidden home. Harry had gotten the all-clear that Grimmauld Place was safe about a week ago. Aurors were still going to different wizarding locations and making sure they were curse-free. Hermione had managed to get them to look over her childhood home too. She still hadn't managed to visit it, worried that a _for sale_ sign would adorn it. It didn't matter much anyway, she had all that she needed with her.

Thankfully, the terrifying apparition of Dumbledore had been vanished away, but, unfortunately, the yammering portrait of Mrs Black still stood in the entryway.

"I wonder if we can just paint over it," Ron said as he tried to cover the portrait.

"Wouldn't that hurt her?", Ginny asked.

"So what?", Ron asked and Hermione gently punched him in the shoulder, causing him to drop the curtain he was holding.

"Ron," she exclaimed, "that's terrible." Ron shrugged as he managed to cover the portrait.

"Do you have a better idea?", Ron countered.

"Well," Hermione started, "no, not exactly. But maybe I could go back to Flourish and Blotts to see if they have any books that could enlighten us."

Ron shrugged again, and they all jumped as Kreacher popped in.

"Master Harry," he proclaimed. "Kreacher has not seen Master Harry at Grimmauld place for months."

"I've missed you too," Harry said. Kreacher had visited a couple of times to check on Harry since the war ended, but Harry didn't have much to ask of him besides to keep the house up. Though, he was sure that his idea of keeping the house up was very different from Kreacher's.

"Miss, Mister, Miss," Kreacher nodded towards Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, stunning them all at his politeness.

"It's so good to see you Kreacher," Hermione said over-enthusiastically. "Thank you for taking such good care of this house."

Kreacher bowed his head, and Hermione made a face at Ron to show her pleasant surprise.

Their plan was to look around the ground floor first, and Hermione magicked a notebook so she could write down what needed to be done. After the notebook was almost completely full, Harry suggested that they figure out what bedrooms they wanted. Harry and Ginny went to look on the top floors, as Hermione and Ron started at the bottom. They unspokenly avoided Sirius' room, but quickly found the perfect one.

Hermione assumed that Harry would want the master, but this room was a close second. It had an en suite, plenty of space, and, most importantly, a king-sized bed. It was dusty and dark, and way too Victorian for her taste, but Hermione could easily picture her and Ron there. She blushed, as her visions started to become more risque.

"It's perfect," Ron said, wrapping his arms around her.

"I think so too," she said, turning around so she could kiss his lips. He moaned in appreciation and walked her to the bed, gently pushing her down onto the bed. However, when she plopped on the bed, a wave of dust exploded around them, leaving them both with a coughing fit. Hermione stood up, trying to brush the dust off of her.

"Maybe after we've cleaned a bit," she said, feeling slightly disappointed.

"Or," Ron said, looking around mischievously, "maybe…" He picked Hermione up with ease and sat her down on the antique bombe dresser, making her squeak in surprise. He kissed her hungrily and she spread her legs so that he could get closer. They both reached for their wands to lock and silence the door, laughing as they did. _Maybe the future isn't all that bad_ , Hermione thought, as Ron began unzipping her trousers.


End file.
